


A Life of Conflict

by Quadrantje



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, Maquis, Pre-Series, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-07 07:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quadrantje/pseuds/Quadrantje
Summary: Ensign Kathryn Janeway has to find a way home when she's rescued from a Cardassian prison camp by the Maquis.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 86
Kudos: 119





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this story. I've been working on it for ever (since 2016) and I've never rewritten _anything_ this much. But it's almost done - honestly! - and I love it. I hope you do too.

I wake up suddenly, my body buzzing with a sense of urgency I can’t place. I’m staring up at a grey ceiling, which seems indistinguishable from any standard shuttle or sickbay ceiling. Yet something, I can’t pinpoint exactly what, is different. I’m absolutely certain that I’m not aboard a Starfleet ship. The realisation makes me jerk up. Too fast, it turns out, because a pounding headache stops me before I get fully upright and the pain forces me to slump back down and rest on my elbows. As much as I hate to spend even one moment in ignorance, I force myself to keep my eyes closed and take deep breaths until I yawn. The urgency that woke me up is fading and I feel a sluggishness, a strong urge to drift back to sleep. Could I have narcotics in my system?

Still I keep my eyes closed, but I fight to stay awake. After a few more moments, the pain subsides just enough to be bearable. Only then do I reopen my eyes, waiting that extra moment for the black stars to recede to the edges of my vision. I relax when the light doesn’t aggravate the pounding in my head. Then I sit back up, more carefully this time. My whole body aches, but I ignore it as I look around. The room I’m in is unfamiliar and looks anything but friendly. It’s dark and bare, as far as I can see made completely out of cold steel. I recognize the glittering at the far end as a forcefield, locking me inside. And it’s too warm. Maybe that’s what tipped me off that I’m not in a Starfleet facility.

I’m lying on the floor, with a wide ledge or shelf next to me. Now that I’m sitting, it’s at the height of my shoulder and it looks large enough to lie down on. I think it’s sturdy enough to hold my weight, so I use it to hoist myself to my feet. The ledge, like everything else, is made of metal and cold to the touch in the otherwise hot room. I’m already beginning to sweat, though I’m just wearing my tank and regulation trousers, both of which look decidedly the worse for wear. There’s no sign of my jacket and my hair has come undone. I reach up to retie it in a low ponytail, but my hands shake badly, making it rather difficult. I know that it’s the adrenaline coursing through my veins, a sure sign of the panic that threatens to swallow me.

I jump at the sound of a loud _clang,_ coming from somewhere outside my cell. The sound reverberates painfully though my head, distracting me so much that it takes me a moment to realize that I wasn’t the only thing in the cell to move. Across from me, beneath another ledge, a heap of rags comes to life, accompanied by a chorus of moans. I drop into a defensive crouch, facing the heap but careful not to turn my back on the forcefield. A second later, I recognize my commanding officer. The sight of him releases a wave of relief so powerful my knees almost buckle. I’m not alone. Surely the Captain will know what to do.

I wait as he shakes off the effects of our violence-induced slumber and takes in our surroundings. A large purple bruise stands out vividly against the too-pale skin of his temple. The shooting pains that have been radiating from my side since I’ve gotten up hint at a similar injury. I probe the site carefully, but can’t find a wound, though the reddish-brown stain that saturates that side of my tank top can only be dried blood. Aside from the tenderness, however, my side seems perfectly fine. My head is still pounding with every beat of my heart, but aside from that I seem to be no worse for wear. I reach down to help Captain Paris up, gritting my teeth as the downward movement makes the pounding in my head worse. Judging by Paris’ groans, he is worse off than I am. The thought does nothing to slow my heartbeat.

‘Captain, are you alright?’ I ask when he’s fully standing. He looks at me sideways, still catching his breath. Though when his answer comes, his voice is surprisingly strong.

‘I’m fine, Ensign,’ he says. Then, after he’s glanced around our cell, ‘Report!’ The familiar command helps to quell my rising panic. But as I tell the Captain all I can remember, most of the details only coming back to me as I tell the story, I can feel myself growing colder. Our present surroundings, coupled with my reawakening memories, make it abundantly clear who our captors must be: Cardassians. Even I, fresh out of the Academy, have heard the stories. They’re ruthless, hierarchical, proud and merciless. That doesn’t sound like a good combination for their prisoners. Despite the heat, I shiver.


	2. Chapter 2

The two of us are left alone for a long time. Hours must have passed without any sign of our captors. The Captain confirms my memories, but has little more to add. My headache seems to have faded away, leaving behind nothing more than a heaviness at my temples. I still feel a bit sluggish, weighed down. The Captain seems a bit unfocussed, but I try not to notice. After we’ve discussed everything we can remember, he says there is nothing we can do but wait and conserve our strength, and he sits down on the second ledge. He still looks winded, as if just standing up and talking exhausted him. It scares me, so I try to focus on something else. I narrow in on the nearest wall, searching it carefully for any hint of weakness; for anything that might facilitate our escape.

Captain Paris doesn’t get up to help me. He must know how pointless my actions are, I certainly do, but he doesn’t try to stop me either. He probably knows that this search, however futile, is the only thing keeping me calm. After searching the whole cell, with the exception of the wall from which the Captain’s ledge hangs, without result, I slump on my crude cot, my energy momentarily exhausted.

I’ve barely sat down when we hear a door opening and at least two pairs of footsteps marching in our direction. It’s the first sign since we woke up that we’re not alone. I scramble up again, trying to weigh my options.

My original fear is back, coursing through my veins. I try to calm it down by reminding myself that the Cardassians are our allies. They won’t hurt two Starfleet officers. Will they? The thought can’t stop my heart from racing.

Though we’ve already guessed the identity of our captors, it’s still an unwelcome shock to see two Cardassians appearing in front of the forcefield. They look threatening in their dark uniforms. Tall. Uncompromising. They come to a halt in front of the forcefield. ‘Lower forcefield of cell 378,’ one of them says and the forcefield sparkles out of existence. My confidence falters as I realise there are more Cardassians close enough to monitor us. But I keep the resolution on my face and step in front of Captain Paris. I look them in the eye as defiantly as I can, even though I have to look way up to do it. They don’t even care. Their eyes pass over my head as if I am nothing.

‘You, come with us.’ The nearest guard says, probably looking straight at Captain Paris.

I pull myself even straighter. ‘We are Starfleet officers. Under the treaty between Cardassia and the Federation I demand-‘

Before I can say anything more, I’m backhanded so viciously I slam into the side of the cell and slump to the floor. I lie there for a moment, stunned, as the pain radiates out from my cheek. The Cardassians’ movements shake me out of my stupor. One of them reaches over my prone form and grabs the Captain.

‘Wait!’ I say. I’m about to scramble to my feet when Paris’ words stop me.

‘Stand down, Ensign.’

I hesitate, wavering between following his order and listening to my gut. My training wins and I stay still, watching silently as Captain Paris moves past me. He’s right. There’s nothing I can do besides get myself and possibly the Captain killed. That doesn’t make it easier to watch. As soon as Paris steps across the invisible line where the forcefield used to be, the Cardassians grab him and start to drag him away. The forcefield comes back online half a second later. Against every instinct I have, I wait silently as they take the Captain away. My hands shake as I clench them against my powerless anger.

* * *

I’m left alone. Once again, I can’t do anything but wait. I try to sit, but feel the strain of inaction almost immediately. Instead, I start to pace. Back and forth, until I’m too miserable to continue and slump down on the ledge once more. Feeling grim and useless, I try to think of something useful. The heat and residual tranquillizer try to lull me into sleep, but I fight it, hoping for the Captain’s return.

* * *

I don’t know how much later the sound of screams jerks me out of a sort of trance. It takes no more than seconds for the adrenaline coursing through my veins to rouse me to full alertness. Only now do I realise how silent it has been. I have heard no voices, no footsteps except those of the two guards. No rustling of fabrics or murmuring; nothing at all to indicate the presence of a single living being within earshot. Until these screams. They set my teeth on edge. Fretfully, I begin to pace again. Anything to keep my mind off those terrible shrieks. I know they belong to the Captain.

When I can no longer ignore them, I try to find the source of the screams, getting as close to the forcefield as I dare in an attempt to look down the corridor. If I crane my neck and press my head against the wall, I can see a few meters into the adjoining corridor. If I glance right, I can see that the hallway ends in a wall, our cell the last of the hallway. The door must be somewhere at the other end of the corridor, but I can’t see it. Are we the only prisoners here?

The screams continue, each one trailing an ice-cold path down my spine. It takes me a while to realise how much I’m shaking. In an effort to calm myself down, I try to think of something to do, anything at all, but I can remember nothing. All my training says that when in enemy captivity, if there’s no route of escape, sit tight and wait for rescue. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t resist. I’m not sure I’m capable of that. Sitting around, waiting for someone else to come to my rescue is not my usual style. However, I don’t seem to have a choice.

Giving in to defeat, I finally huddle in a corner of my cot, covering my ears in a futile attempt to block out the Captain’s screams, and try to rest.

* * *

Sleep eventually reclaims me, but even there I’m haunted by the terror of my waking world. My dreams are filled with running. Populated by dark dangers always lurking and screams that I sometimes desperately try to reach and at other times flee from. I wake up already out of breath, feeling as exhausted as if I really have been running all night. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm the beating of my heart. It takes me a few moments to realise that I’m not alone. The cell is almost completely black, but I can see a dark outline. It’s just inside the confines of the cell, stepping right through where the forcefield used to be. The presence is probably what woke me. Judging by its size and shape, as well as the way it moves, I suspect it’s humanoid, but that’s about all I can make out. The cell was well lit before, but now all the lights are off, both inside and outside my cell. There is only a vague light shining from somewhere further off. I wonder if it’s night. Have I been here so long already?

I don’t have time to consider all the implications, because it – I think it’s male – starts to walk towards me. His eyes have probably adjusted to the darkness, as mine have, because he moves straight for me. He’s so close I can smell him. His scent is unlike that of the cleanliness-obsessed Cardassian guards from before, musky and threatening. My first instinct is escape and I try to shuffle away, deeper into the cell, though I know I can’t evade him in the small confined space. However, after a moment anger kicks in. It’s only been hours – a day at most – and already they’ve reduced me to this cowering thing. Not to mention what they did to the Captain.

That’s when I realise the earlier screams have stopped. Does that mean the Captain is safe or that he’s – I can’t finish the thought. My attacker takes advantage of my momentary distraction and reaches for me. My training kicks in and before I’m consciously aware of his movement I’ve fallen backwards to evade his grasp. The moment my back hits the ledge, I start kicking at him with all my strength, letting the ire fuel me. After my earlier helplessness, the anger feels blissful. Potent and decisive, instead of weak and useless. I embrace it wholeheartedly. My panic has dropped away, leaving only a steel resolve to fight with everything I have. I slow the pace of my kicks as my eyes adjust further to the darkness, giving me more room to aim. One of my kicks lands squarely on my attacker’s chest. He stumbles backwards and expels a breath in an ‘oof’, that reflects loudly in the otherwise still cell. Sounds like a man.

However, the ledge is barely wide enough for me to lie on; there simply isn’t enough room for me to defend myself. As I try to land another kick, I feel the solid metal beneath me vanish as I roll off the edge and fall to the floor.

I try to cushion the fall with my arms, but the angle is all wrong and the distance too small to compensate. The moment my left hand makes contact with the ground, a sharp pain races up my arm. The sting momentarily takes up all my focus, and my vision blurs completely. My attacker doesn’t waste a second; he’s on me immediately. I try to ignore my injured arm, but I’ve landed face-down, which severely limits my options. Despite my best efforts, my attacker manages to pin my arms behind my back in a classic wrist lock. The pain in my left wrist is excruciating, making my struggle even more desperate. My vision shrinks as the edges become dark stars. I take big gulps of air as I fight both him and the unconsciousness that threatens, but he uses his own weight to push me against the floor. I know I’ve lost, but I keep struggling, unwilling to admit defeat. Not again. It isn’t until I hear his voice that I still.

‘Calm down. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to get you out.’ His voice is calm despite our struggle, if a bit out of breath, and warm. The idea of escape, of being rescued, washes through me. This is what my Starfleet training promised: sit tight and we’ll rescue you. Without a conscious thought, I feel my body relaxing. For a moment, he sinks into me further as his weight is no longer offset by the tension in my torso. He realises my surrender quickly though, because almost immediately I feel him ease up. His hold on my wrists slackens, which thankfully reduces the pain to a dull throbbing. I can breathe again. After a moment, he carefully releases my hands. Instinctively, I pull my left wrist against my ribcage, trying to protect my injured limb. When I make no move to resume our fight, my attacker/rescuer slowly stands up, giving me more space. I turn around, slowly, mindful of any sudden movements. I still can’t see much more than his outline in the near darkness, but I am aware that he holds his hands in front of him, palms up, in a universal gesture to show that he’s unarmed and means me no harm. More importantly, I now see that the forcefield blocking the entrance of the cell is still out.

I quickly avert my eyes, just in case he is my enemy and has better night vision than I do. I don’t want him to know what I’m thinking until I’m ready to make my move. I get up, making sure to exaggerate my weakness as I use the moment’s respite to catch my breath.

‘Who are you?’ I ask, careful to keep my eyes on him instead of the exit.

‘I’m Chakotay.’ His voice is as smooth as honey as it runs over the unfamiliar name. I want to melt into it, release all my fear and helplessness of the past few hours and just embrace the idea of freedom, but I force myself to stay alert. A beat of silence follows his name. ‘But let’s save the twenty questions for after we get out of here.’ It’s the hint of humour in his voice that finally convinces me he’s not a threat. And anyway, what do I have to lose? With one last glance at my attacker turned rescuer, I run past him and out of the cell. The sound of his footsteps behind me tells me he’s fast on my heels.


	3. Chapter 3

I don’t waste any time by looking back, I merely run as fast as I can. I pass about a dozen adjoining cells, all of them empty. I can now see the door at the end of the corridor and my heartbeat speeds up as I see that it’s unlocked and partially open. I run just a little bit faster, pushing myself that fraction more. I cradle my aching wrist tightly against my chest to absorb the shocks as my feet hit the ground.

About three-quarters of the way between my cell and the exit, another corridor branches off to my right, ending in another door, this one closed. The second I see it, I know that’s where Captain Paris’ screams came from. It takes no thought at all for self-preservation to lose to my sense of duty and I change direction mid-stride. A sudden yank on my right arm – the good one thankfully – almost makes me slam into the wall. Glancing back, I see that Chakotay is trying to haul me back to my original course. I try to pull my arm away without much success, but the effort does bring his attention back to me.

‘He’s already out.’ He’s clearly impatient and accompanies his words with another yank on my arm.

‘But-’ I begin to protest, torn between believing him and checking for myself.

‘The older man who was in there? He’s already on his way to our ship.’ I resist for one more moment, but how would he know who I was looking for unless he’d seen the Captain himself? Logic wins out and I let him drag me back to our original course. When he realises that I’m following, he lets go of my arm. Our order reversed, I now follow him to the door and the faint light beyond.

* * *

When we reach the door at the end of the hall, Chakotay slows. People are running past us, all headed in the same direction. To safety, I assume. Some are struggling, clearly injured. Chakotay turns to me.

‘Just follow the others, they’ll lead you to our ship.’

‘Where are you going?’ I ask, not at all keen to split up. He doesn’t answer, just stops right past the opening, pointing to the right.

‘Go!’ he says. I can’t. When he stepped out of the dark hallway and into the light, he finally became more than a shadow. I can’t help but stare at this first look at him. He appears human, with dark skin and hair. He seems about my age, or perhaps a few years older. But what has caught my eye are not his looks, but his clothing. He’s dressed all in leather, definitely not Starfleet issue. I glance around, seeing more leather amongst the rags. These people can’t be Starfleet rangers. So who are they?

Noticing my frozen state, Chakotay’s look grows impatient and he shouts ‘get out of here!’ before taking off at a surprisingly fast pace in the opposite direction. I hesitate for a moment longer, but then I think, what could be worse than being a prisoner here? Capture by slavers? Surely even they know better than to steal prisoners from the Cardassians! No, whoever these people are, they’re my best chance. And they already have the Captain. I waver for a moment longer, unsure whether to follow his instructions, or Chakotay himself. But in the time that I spent hesitating in the doorway, he vanished. I start running in the other direction, following the crowd.

* * *

The corridor ends at two large doors, wide enough to haul cargo through. What seemed like bright sunlight from inside the darkness turns out to be early dawn. Twilight still hangs heavily over the surroundings when I step outside. I give myself one moment to glance around, marvelling at the seeming peacefulness of the trees and hills so close to this dreadful prison. Then I follow the others through the trees, over an ad hoc path. After a few minutes we stumble upon a clearing. A small starship fills the open space almost completely. The ship looks old and decrepit, better suited to the scrapheap than interplanetary transport. But I don’t have much of a choice, so I follow another leather-clad man inside. He crosses the first room – a loading dock – and passes through a corridor to another room, about the size of the Al-Batani’s cargo bay. Crude mattresses are strewn on the floor, about thirty in all. I glance around at the people already there. One of them catches my eye and I move closer, but it’s not the Captain. I want to move on, to search for Captain Paris, but I’m stopped at the door by another man dressed in leather.

‘Stop. You’re to stay here.’

‘But-’ I start to protest.

‘What’s wrong with your arm?’ he asks, cutting me off and staring at my painful wrist. I’m still holding it tight against my chest, but now I try to move it behind my back. The movement hurts and I flinch.

‘Meyer!’ the man shouts to a redheaded woman a few beds further and waves her over. She’s not dressed in leather, but something resembling a medical smock. ‘I think she has a wounded wrist, can you take a look at it?’ Meyer nods at him before turning to me. She smiles and introduces herself as nurse Meyer, before asking me to hold out my injured arm.

She runs a medical scanner over my wrist, which I recognize as Starfleet issue. I feel my eyebrows lift, surprised to see Starfleet technology on what is obviously not a Starfleet ship. As quickly as the surprise comes, I try to suppress it. Until I know who these people are, I should give away as little as possible. I certainly shouldn’t let on that I can identify Starfleet material from regular.

The nurse hums once and lowers the scanner. ‘It’s nothing serious, just a mild sprain.’ She concludes. She takes out another small handheld apparatus that I don’t recognize and which is definitely not Starfleet issue, and runs it slowly over my wrist. About halfway down my wrist, it starts to flicker and she gives it a hard whack. That helps for a moment, but about ten seconds later it seems to stop completely. Another smack doesn’t help. Meyer sighs and replaces the tool in the small med-kit hanging down her side. ‘The rest will have to heal on it’s own, I’m afraid.’ She rummages around in the bag and takes out a piece of cloth and fashions it into a brace. ‘Don’t use it for the next 24 hours.’

Then she gives me another friendly smile and turns away to deal with some of the other injuries. My wrist already feels better and I let out a silent sigh of relief.

‘Thank you,’ I say to the man who stopped me.

‘No problem,’ he says, unsmilingly. ‘Now, why don’t you lie down, you must be tired,’ and motions me away. I take a few steps, unsure of what to do.

I have to think like an officer. The thought focusses me. I’m on an unknown ship, among people I don’t know. I need more information, preferably without drawing attention to myself. So I choose a corner where three leather-clad people stand together, deep in discussion. I assume they belong to whatever group is organizing our escape. Most of the mattresses around them are still empty. Trying to stay inconspicuous, I walk over to the empty mattress closest to them and sink down on it. I make myself comfortable and pretend to fall asleep, keeping my ears open for any clues.


	4. Chapter 4

By staying quiet and pretending to be asleep, I quickly discover who our rescuers are: Maquis. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as my mother would say. I was saved from prison and possible torture by known terrorists. What will they do to me if they find out I’m Starfleet? What would they do to the Admiral? Could they already know he’s Starfleet? Are they keeping him somewhere, locked away?

I’m thankful that the leather-clad group moved away soon after my revelation, because even with my eyes closed I’m worried by face gives away my shock. My thoughts sound about as loud as shouts. Pretty soon though, logic kicks in and I try to reason through my situation. I’m alone, in unfamiliar surroundings, among Maquis terrorists. My commanding officer might be seriously injured, but I don’t even know where he is. Despite all my training, I have no idea how to handle this situation. How am I ever going to get us home?

I tell myself to take deep breaths, and keep up the pretence that I’m sleeping, which isn’t easy considering all the adrenaline that’s hammering through my veins. I have to think. I know what my father would say. _Just think it through, Katie, one step at a time_.

Step one: find the Admiral. Assess his condition.

Step two: find a way to contact Starfleet.

Step three: stay safe until you can be rescued. Blend in. Create a cover story. Make connections._ Don’t draw attention_.

I can do this. I have to.

Now that I’ve decided what to do, I know I’d better do it sooner rather than later. Right now, the Maquis have a whole ship full of strangers and they’re probably trying to flee before the Cardassians have a chance to catch up with them. If I want to get around unnoticed, now is the time, before they get organised and start sorting out who we are.

Keeping a careful ear on the group of Maquis I’ve been spying on, who have now joined the man by the door, I toss around for a few moments, as if sleeping fitfully, before pretending to wake up. However, I’m not sure I can get up without drawing attention to myself. I don’t want to draw the attention of the Maquis if I can avoid it, but they’re close enough that they’ll definitely notice if I try to get up. To buy myself some time to think, I sit up and look around. My Starfleet issue pants draw my attention. They’re singed almost beyond recognition, one leg stripped bare up to my knee, but still I worry that someone will see them and realise what I am. My uniform jacket was lost somewhere between our shuttle and the Cardassian cell and my tank top is so stained that even I have trouble recognizing its original colour. Only the coloured strip on the bottom of my right pants leg could give me away. However, the only way to keep that hidden is to stay beneath this pathetic blanket.

While I’m contemplating my wardrobe, the sound of the engines becomes louder until I can feel the floor vibrate with it. Though modern starships don’t have such extreme reactions, I recognize it for what it is: take off. It’s far from a smooth lift off. The ship is clearly past its peak, groaning under the strain of gravitational pull. For a moment I wonder if we’ll make it off the planet. But the ship surprises me and makes it out of the atmosphere and into space, though it rocks dangerously more than once. I’m not sure if it’s age or weapon’s fire. Whatever it is, it makes for a great distraction, because the whole bay is in an uproar. The group of Maquis by the door spread out to calm down several others and people move about, looking for something to hold on to. In the chaos, I rip off the last few inches of my pants, stuff the fabric into a hole in the mattress and slip out, back into the corridor. Left is how we came in, so I turn right.

* * *

I keep walking until I’ve put a reasonable amount of distance between myself and the cargo bay before stopping at one of the wall panels. If I can get through the encryptions, one of these panels will probably grant me access to much of the ship’s computer. Even a simple map of the ship would be immeasurably valuable. Thanks to my background in science, it’s surprisingly easy to break into the panel’s antiquated systems. I’m almost through its security when I’m suddenly roughly shoved away from the wall. The shock against my side throws me off balance and I stumble awkwardly to the right, trying not to fall. The crash grazed against my injured wrist, but thankfully it is healed enough that the pain is minimal. Just as I’ve regained my balance, the ship buckles again, catching me off guard. I almost fall against the wall I was just pushed away from when a firm hand grasps my left elbow and jerks me upright until I hit his chest. My tender wrist is caught between us and I flinch reflexively, even though it doesn’t really hurt.

My forays into the computer must have been detected. I try to straighten up and quickly run over possible excuses in my head as I look up. I’m surprised to see Chakotay. He looks tired and dishevelled and there are splashes of dark brown all over his hands, and dark stains where it splashed on the leather. Is that blood? Cardassian blood? The thought makes me irrationally happy in a way that’s probably unbecoming of a Starfleet officer, so I push it aside and focus on his face. He looks just as startled by my presence as I am by his, with no hint of disapproval or anger. Perhaps he wasn’t sent here to stop me, just stumbled into me by accident. Literally. My heartbeat slows down somewhat.

‘Chakotay.’ I say in surprise, letting my relief translate into a mild smile. After a confused moment, I see recognition bloom in his eyes, before he frowns and his eyes narrow in thought. Probably searching for a name I never gave him. ‘I’m Kate. Kate Johnson,’ I say, giving him the most ordinary last name that comes to mind.

‘You really are a wildcat, then.’ The instant widening of his eyes suggest he blurted that out without thinking. Next he frowns and tugs on his ear, his eyes wandering away from mine. I think if his skin was as light as my own, he’d be blushing. There’s an awkward silence as I stare at him. Then I burst into giggles. He looks even more uncomfortable. I quickly tamp down on my mirth, which isn’t mirth at all as much as a release of tension.

‘I’m sorry,’ I offer, for laughing at him. ‘I should thank you for rescuing me from the Cardassians. You probably saved my life.’ He looks even more uncomfortable, if that’s possible, and seems at a momentary loss for words.

‘You’re welcome,’ he finally says, giving me a hesitant but warm smile. I decide to push a bit further, as he seems too addled to be suspicious.

‘However, I can’t find my father, do you know where he is?’ I try to look worried and innocent at the same time, holding my breath and hoping that he won’t send me back to the cargo bay. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to give my presence here a second thought.

‘Your father, he’s the man who was in that side room?’ I nod anxiously. ‘They probably took him to sickbay. I can take you there if you’d like.’ I nod eagerly, beaming at him. My gratitude seems to make him uncomfortable again, as he glances away from me. His eyes skitter around before they land on my body. They travel down carefully, making me flush, before glancing up at me. ‘I do have one condition.’ It’s my turn to feel uncomfortable. He wouldn’t- ‘You’ve got to get cleaned up first.’

‘Oh!’ I relax, relieved that he’s not asking what I feared he would. Then I glance down, noticing the dirt clinging to my every inch and my torn and filthy uniform and realise he’s got a good point. I wouldn’t want me anywhere near a sickbay either. Moreover, this could be the perfect opportunity to ditch my incriminating outfit. ‘I wouldn’t say no to that.’ I say, with a relieved chuckle. Then, looking back at him, I tease ‘you look like you could use a shower too.’ I realise too late how suggestive that sounds and feel my cheeks flaming. Before I can backtrack, awkwardly, he’s chuckling. His eyes, when he looks back at me, show a warm humour.

‘I can’t argue with that,’ he laughs, ‘but let’s get you sorted out first. Shall we?’ Once again, his humour sets me at ease. I grasp the arm that he’s holding out to me in a gentlemanly fashion and laugh along with him as he leads me through the corridor.


	5. Chapter 5

Two turns and a stretch of hallway later, Chakotay rings the chime on one of a dozen identical doors. Not his quarters then. A Bajoran woman in her twenties opens the door. I stare at her. Except for the noseridges that mark her as Bajoran, she looks downright Midwestern with her blond hair and high cheekbones. If it wasn’t for the characteristic earring, she could have been born in the farmhouse next to ours.

‘Kate, this is Mora Naprem, one of our nurses and probably the closest thing we have to a clothing store.’ The last part is said with so much humour that I don’t know how to interpret it. ‘Mora, this is Kate, we picked her up at the last stop,’ Chakotay said. His oblique reference to the Cardassian prison surprises me. He makes it sound like I got aboard a routine transport at one of its designated stops! I only half-listen as he asks Mora if she has a change of clothes for me. Mora turns to me, appraising me with a look remarkably similar to Phoebe’s when I ask her opinion on my outfit. It’s a bit disconcerting and I have to consciously stop myself from fidgeting nervously.

‘I might have something,’ she finally says, still looking at me as if I’m a fascinating science query instead of a person. ‘You sit down,’ she orders Chakotay, waving vaguely in the direction of a couch. ‘We’ll be back. Come on!’ she says to me, flashing me a bright smile.

She grabs my hand and drags me along through the narrow causeway that she stuffed with a couch and a non-descript cupboard, into a slightly wider but oddly shaped room of about seven square meters. She places a tasteful screen between us and the entrance, cutting off Chakotay’s line of sight.

There’s a bed here and, awkwardly wrenched in between the bed and the wall, an old closet. Due to its precarious situation, one of the closet doors can’t open. The other door doesn’t look like it can close, showing different piles of garments inside, some looking ready to topple over any second.

‘I don’t think you’d fit into any of my clothes, but I might have something in here that’ll work for you…,’ Mora says, her voice slightly muffled as she starts sifting through the collection of clothes. I idly wonder where she got it all. I can’t imagine that the Maquis make regular stops for something as trivial as shopping. Mora is pulling out something shockingly pink. I wince. I’m very sure that’s the kind of colour that would send Phoebe into a thirty-minute rant on how it clashes with my hair. Mora holds it in front of me, but thankfully immediately recognized that it’s far too large, and throws it back haphazardly into the closet. Quite a few pieces are unceremoniously discarded in this manner, without me having to utter as much as a single word, but eventually Mora finds something she deems suitable. It looks like a dress, but I don’t have a chance to take a good look at it before she hands the small bundle over to me and points me to the shower.

It must be the smallest bathroom I’ve ever seen. There’s not even a sonic shower, only an old-fashioned water one. Luckily, I’ve always been partial to the real water variety when it comes to bathing. It’s a bit of a hassle with my wrist but it’s simply wonderful to be able to clean up. I take a few minutes more than is strictly necessary before drying off and pulling on the outfit Mora picked for me. It’s a simple blue dress. If I understood her muttering correctly, it used to belong to Mora’s sister, which explains why it’s not several sizes too big for me. It’s perfect. The fit is good and aside from the colour the dress couldn’t be more dissimilar from my uniform if it tried. Fingering the soft material, I can almost pretend that the past few days were a bad dream. This could be a costume for a holodeck program. I could be going dancing in 22nd century Spain or –

I abruptly cut off the thought. What’s the point in pretending? I’m on a Maquis ship and I need to keep my act together. I step out of the bathroom and back into Mora’s room. She’s lounging on the bed, still browsing through her clothes. When she notices my entrance, she’s silent for a moment, looking me up and down with a haunted look in her eyes. I decide I don’t want to know what happened to the sister who used to own this dress. A moment later she perks up, complimenting me and smiling brightly as if to drive away her momentary sadness. I undergo her fluttering with more grace than I ever showed Phoebe. She’s still happily chatting away when she pulls away the screen between the bed and the couch. Chakotay is lying on the too-small seat, sleeping peacefully. Mora giggles and pulls me past him out the door. As the door hisses closed behind us, I try to protest.

‘But he was going to show me to sickbay!’

Mora just laughed. ‘He must be exhausted, the poor guy, he probably hasn’t slept since yesterday morning! Let him sleep. Besides, I can show you to sickbay. I have to be there soon anyway. But how about we get some breakfast first?’

Until this moment, food was the last thing on my mind. But now that she mentions it, I realise I’m absolutely starving. When did I last eat? I don’t even remember. Probably soon after our shuttle left the Al-Batani what feels like a lifetime ago.

I gladly follow Mora, casually listening to her easy chatter as I look around and try to memorise everything I see. If I want to get out of here, knowing how to get around is a good way to start. We pass quite a few people in the small corridors, mostly humans. They greet Mora perfunctorily and give me no more than a passing glance as they walk past, either too busy or too tired to linger. That suits me just fine. The less attention I draw the better.

It doesn’t take us long to reach a sort of mess hall. It’s a rather crowded room, with ramshackle tables and chairs crammed in everywhere. About a third of the tables is occupied. A series of viewports on the far wall shows that we’ve reached the exterior of the ship. I’ve spend enough time on older starships with my father to know that the back wall of Mora’s room was also on an outer wall. I recognized the chill emanating from it, despite the isolation. We must have crossed straight through the ship to the other side, which suggests that the ship is even smaller than it looked from the outside.

There’s a replicator to my right, a few feet from the door, but Mora walks right past it to the corner. When I follow her, I realise why. The replicator is broken. Instead, she leads me to a large pot on a small simmering fire. She scoops out a large helping of something unidentifiable, ladling it into a bowl and hands it to me before getting some more for herself. I examine the contents warily. It’s a great brown blob that looks as if it’s been digested before, with bits of alarmingly bright red and blue sprinkled haphazardly around. Even Starfleet ration bars seem appetising in comparison and I wonder if I’m really that hungry. My stomach reminds me loudly that I most certainly am. I groan half-heartedly, catching Mora’s smile out of the corner of my eye.

‘Come on,’ she says’, let’s find a table. And it’s not as bad as it looks.’

I give her a pleading look. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any coffee?’ I hazard, but follow her dutifully anyway. Mora doesn’t even dignify my question with an answer, but simply plunks down in a chair that seems barely up to her weight. I follow suit more resigned. Mora hands me a spoon, grinning at me encouragingly if a bit mischievously. I sigh and dig in. And almost gag.

In truth, the stuff isn’t as terrible as it looks, though the difference is marginal at best. A fact of which Mora, judging by her wicked grin, is very well aware. I give her a dark look.

‘Sorry,’ she says, rather too cheerfully, and shrugs, ‘Bolian cook.’

I give her another skunk eye, but prepare to dig in anyway. Before I can, however, the bowl is neatly grabbed from between my fingers. ‘If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.’ Someone growls nastily. I look up to find a tall woman, human by the looks of it, standing right next to us. Her colouring is about similar to Chakotay’s, but the foul scowl on her face stops any further similarities. She’s sizing me up and I wonder if she’s teasing or testing me. Either way, I won’t back down to her and stare right back. Her smile grows.

Mora disturbs our silent staring contest. ‘Oh lay off her, Sahreen,’ she says in an almost bored tone, not even looking up from her own bowl. ‘She’s not here to horn in on your territory, just to get something to eat. I don’t think the Cardassians fed her properly.’ The last is said with a significant glance at the dark-haired woman. The message apparently hits home, because Sahreen straightens up and dumps my bowl callously back on the table. ‘Enjoy the sludge,’ she snipes with a malicious grin before skulking off. Mora keeps on eating, unperturbed, as soon as her back is turned.

‘Don’t mind Sahreen,’ she says, ‘she’s got more anger than she knows what to do with, but she’s basically harmless.’

I follow her lead and dig up another spoonful. ‘What did you mean by _her territory_?’ I ask, before taking the bite.

Mora shrugs. ‘Nothing. That’s the problem.’ After those mysterious words, she runs her spoon once more over the almost completely clean bottom of her bowl and, when that fails to yield any more sludge, drops the spoon and gets up. I hurriedly shovel the last of my own goop in my mouth and follow suit. We quickly rinse out the bowls and spoons before putting them back next to the still bubbling pot.

‘Now that you’re all cleaned and fed, ready for sickbay?’

The thought alone makes me smile. ‘Lead the way!’


	6. Chapter 6

Sickbay isn’t far away. I’m beginning to think that I could walk this entire ship, from front to stern, in less than an hour. I’m not sure if I should be happy about that or not.

The sickbay itself looks like it used to be a storage area, hastily turned into a medical centre. The room is cramped, with patchy walls and makeshift partitions to give the simple cots some privacy. Here and there are stacks of crates, haphazardly pushed to the sides. All but a few of the beds are filled, though the people close to the door seem to have relatively minor injuries. I see a man with a bandaged leg and next to him a woman is being treated for a phaser wound to the shoulder. But as I follow Mora deeper into the room, the injuries become more serious, and more gruesome. A phaser wound can easily happen in the middle of a rescue, but other hurts look more malicious. Torture.

My steps falter as I wonder what state the Captain will be in. I’m not sure if I want to know. I’m afraid to see what the Cardassians have done to him. What I failed to protect him from.

I can feel my stomach rebel as I realise that while I was having a pleasant meal, the Admiral could have been suffering untold miseries. I have to stop and swallow away the guilt of that thought.

Mora has noticed my inability to move and turned back to me. My expression must be easy to read, because she grimaces and then her expression turns sympathetic. I’m too focussed on keeping my composure and pushing away the sickening thoughts to respond to her. I’m relieved when she leaves, but it seems only a moment before she returns. She takes my arm and guides me further into the room and I haven’t the will to resist her. And then I see the Admiral and I stumble the last few steps. He looks alright. The bruise on his temple is already gone and I scan his body carefully but can’t find anything else wrong with him. But he can’t simply be sleeping… can he? Hesitantly, half afraid of what I’ll find, I reach out my hand to breach the last few inches between us. His hand is a bit cold to the touch, or is that my imagination? I grip it tightly, but he doesn’t respond. I begin to say ‘Captain’, but stop myself just in time and whisper ‘Dad?’ instead. No reaction. ‘Dad?’ I say a bit louder. He might not recognize my voice, but I know he has at least one teenage daughter. She visited the Al-Batani with her mother before we left. Perhaps if I pitch my voice higher, I’ll sound more like her. ‘Dad?’ I try again. I can hear my own fear. Not the slightest twitch. I let go of his hand and lean forward. What if I shake him? A hand on my shoulder startles me before I can try. Looking behind me, I stare right into the eyes of the betazoid doctor. I just manage to stifle a shriek.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ the Doctor says.

I don’t know what to feel. I’m already reeling from seeing sickbay and the Captain. Having the Betazoid doctor there, making me doubt and scrutinize every thought and feeling I have, wondering if it will betray me – betray us – is more than I can process. I’m edging away from her, along the edge of the Captain’s cot. I’m grateful when the doctor takes the initiative. She gives me a sympathetic smile before walking away. Mora follows her. Once they’re a few strides away, I manage to tear my eyes away from them and turn back to the Captain. I grip the edge of his cot tight enough to whiten my knuckles and let out a strained breath. For the next few minutes, I try to draw strength from his familiar presence and authority. I’m not very successful.

Mora returns. Her footsteps are slightly louder than they were before, I assume to make me away of her presence. She stops at my elbow and waits for me to acknowledge her. I glance at her, then past her shoulder but the doctor isn’t with her. A glance around shows her tending to a teenage boy on a cot against the opposite wall. I’m fairly sure it’s not a coincidence. They noticed my discomfort with the betazoid doctor. I wonder what they make of it.

Mora seems to sense my thoughts. ‘Quite a few people we rescued respond that way to Azai,’ she says gently. ‘It’s not easy to face someone who can read you, when you’ve fought so hard to keep your secrets hidden from the Cardassians.’

A wave of relief hits me at her words. My reaction hasn’t betrayed us.

Mora continues. ‘Azai can sense your feelings, that’s true, but she can’t read your thoughts. She’s only half Betazoid. And she’s a good doctor. Do you want to know your father’s condition?’

My apprehension of the doctor eased, I’m eager to know how the Captain’s doing. Even so, I’m relieved when at my nod, Mora doesn’t wave her over but tells me his condition herself.

As far as they can tell, the Captain suffered a head trauma, but they don’t have the specialized medical scanners to determine the extent of the damage, nor the medication to treat him. He’s in a coma and all we can do is wait, let him rest and hope he comes out of it on his own. It’s not a very encouraging diagnoses and I wish there was more to be done, but at least he’s alive. Aside from the head trauma, he has injuries all over his body, but they’re not serious and the Maquis have already cleaned and bandaged those. Right now, there’s nothing I can do for him. I’m not sure what to do now.

Mora seems to sense my indecision, because she gives me a friendly smile, suggests that a good night’s sleep will make all the difference and offers me the use of her quarters. She won’t need them in the next few hours anyway, because she has a long shift here in sickbay. I don’t want to go back to the mattress room and possibly get stuck there, so I accept her kind offer. Before I leave the makeshift sickbay, she shows me how to call up a map of the ship on one of the screens and tells me the way to her quarters. I only take a short look, enough to memorise the route. I’m sure the map will be useful to me later though, when I’m away from prying eyes.

* * *

With the map in mind, it’s not difficult to find Mora’s quarters. I type in the access code she gave me and am granted entrance. A few steps inside the door, I stop. Chakotay is still on the couch, fast asleep. Though his position has shifted quite a bit from when Mora and I left, so he either woke up at some point or he’s a very restless sleeper. The question is answered almost immediately as he begins to shift, muttering something under his breath that I can’t make out. I’m not sure what to do. Should I wake him? I would like to get some sleep, and I’m not sure if I can with a Maquis in the room. My mind is made up when Chakotay starts tossing furiously, muttering words in a language I don’t understand. He’s clearly having a nightmare. Resolutely, I crouch down beside him and call his name. He stops mumbling, but he’s still fidgeting wildly and panting and he shows no sign of hearing me, even when I call again, louder. Changing tactics, I reach out with my good hand and give his nearest shoulder a firm shake. His reaction is instantaneous; he shoots straight up with a roar and a mean right hook right at my face. Only my reflexes prevent me from colliding with it.

Instinctively, I let myself fall backwards and away from his fist. It does seem to have woken him up though. He’s breathing heavily and his eyes are still a bit wild, but they are open and after a moment he seems to come to his senses. He looks around franticly and when he notices me on the ground next to the couch, he calms down. He lowers his fist, running his hand across his face. When he looks back at me, there’s an apology in his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Kate, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ I shoot him a smile, to show him I’m fine, though it probably comes out more than a bit uncertain. I scramble back upright and accept the hand he extents to pull me up. I don’t resist when he pulls me next to him on the couch.

The moment I’m seated, he pulls back his hand. His eyes drop and he starts to wring his hands nervously. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just…’

‘Had a nightmare,’ I finish for him when he trails off. ‘It’s all right.’

‘It’s not all right!’ he spits out, suddenly venomous. ‘I could have hurt you! I could have…’ He buries his face in his hands, clearly unable to continue the thought. He looks distraught and I feel a wave of sympathy for him. Still a bit apprehensive, I reach out my hand and gently place it on his shoulder. At my touch, he shudders and lets out something close to a sigh. Or is it a sob? I realise he’s perilously close to a breakdown. After what I just saw, the thought alarms me.

‘But you didn’t,’ I try to comfort him, infusing the words with as much warmth as I can. ‘You won’t.’

My words seem to reach him, because slowly his hands drop away from his face. I’m almost surprised when I don’t see tear tracks. His eyes are closed, but after a second or two more he opens them and looks me in the eye. For a moment, the anguish in his gaze takes my breath away. What happened to this man? As he stares at me, the anguish slowly seeps away and is replaced by deadly earnest. ‘I promise that I’ll protect you, Kate. I won’t let anything hurt you.’

There’s such sincerity in his voice and his gaze, it renders me speechless. But there’s also guilt. A deep guilt, far more profound than this scene warrants. There’s more to this than I know, far more. I don’t think his vow is really meant for me. Or about me. I think it’s some kind of atonement, for something or someone else. Either way, I accept it.

‘You already have. You saved my life, Chakotay.’ His eyes lighten at my words and it feels as if he’s finally looking at me, instead of captured by a nightmare or memory. It’s nice and I feel myself smiling back at him and putting my hand lightly on his arm. However, it soon becomes awkward and I glance away, trying to think of a way to get him out of here without offending him. He beats me to it.

‘I guess I should go. You probably want to get some sleep,’ he says and I’m glad to hear in his voice the humour that originally put me at ease. I murmur something in the affirmative and he gets up. I watch him leave and wait for the door to close behind him. Only then do I get off the couch.

The bed is comfortable enough, but it still takes me a long time to get to sleep. Every time I almost drift off, I see Chakotay’s anguished eyes and I hear once again the promise he made me. What does it mean?


	7. Chapter 7

I sleep terribly. It seems like every time I drift off, Cardassians show up, or screams echo through my mind. I lose count of how often I’ve woken up before I finally doze off into a light sleep. I’m awoken by some kind of buzz. For the first second or two, I just stare up at the ceiling, completely disoriented. I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, but it was nothing like the room I find myself in. It takes forever for the memories from yesterday to flood back and when they do I kind of wish they hadn’t. I wish yesterday was the nightmare, not the reality.

The buzz sounds again. And then once more a few seconds later. Only when someone starts knocking on the door do I realize the buzz is a door chime. I slip out of bed and check my hair and my dress – which, not wanting to root around Mora’s clothes in her absence, I slept in - but I don’t look too dishevelled. In another second, I’ve crossed to the door and found the release button. I hesitate another moment, unsure whether I want to let in whatever Maquis is on the other side. Then the buzzer sounds again and I give in. The door whooshes open to reveal Chakotay. He looks relaxed and friendly, not a hint of the anguish I saw last night. He shoots me a grin and announces that he’s here to get me some food, as ordered by Mora. I try to beg off, not feeling at all ready to face another meal like yesterday’s. My stomach heaves just at the thought. Chakotay insists that I come with him however, teasing and cajoling until I have no choice but to grin and follow him to the mess hall.

Again, there’s a big pot of something closely resembling sludge. The consistency is about the same as yesterday’s meal, but the colour is closer to beige and there are no strangely coloured chunks. I manage to pretend it’s oatmeal and eat most of it. It helps that Chakotay has found something vaguely coffee-like to go with it. Our meal is mostly silent, though I’m aware that that’s mostly due to me. Chakotay tries to engage me in conversation a few times, but I’m too tired to come up with more than two-syllable answers. When that doesn’t work he tries to draw me out with a funny anecdote about the food. I try to be nice and respond, but I’m still feeling sluggish and far away. Like the nightmares haven’t quite let me go. Even the coffee substitute can’t jolt me into wakefulness. I suspect there’s no caffeine in it, though the taste is reasonable.

When I’m done eating, Chakotay whisks away the bowl and comes back with two more cups of java. He puts one down next to me and sits back down with the other. I exchange my empty cup for the full one and take a sip. I’m aware of his small smile at this. He too takes a sip and then he just stares at me, without saying anything. I try to ignore it, but his gaze is heavy. Even so, I stall as long as I can, before taking another fortifying sip and looking him straight in the eye. He doesn’t look away quickly, as if caught, as I half hoped he might. Instead, he gives me another smile.

‘So, what do you want to do today?’ he asks, in a light, even tone of voice. As if it’s any normal day. I guess for him it is. ‘Want to visit your father?’

My breath catches. ‘Is there a change? Is he awake?’

‘No, I just thought you might like to see him.’ The disappointment that washes through me catches me off guard.

Before I really know what I’m doing, I snap at him angrily, ‘I don’t need a babysitter! Why don’t you just leave me alone!’

His eyebrows snap up in surprise and I’m instantly mortified. I can’t alienate this man, or any other Maquis, not until I’ve gotten myself and the Captain safely out of this. I drop my head into my hand, hiding my face from view as I try to calm down and get my act together. I take a deep breath and feel my tension rush out with it. When I think I’ve got myself under control again, I look back at Chakotay. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, sincerely. ‘I slept terribly and this is all rather overwhelming. I never expected to find myself here.’

I’m relieved to see him smile back at me. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘I know how you feel. This isn’t quite how I expected my life to turn out either.’ We share a slightly self-conscious laugh. ‘Besides, you’re right. We don’t really want the… refugees to roam all over the ship. But Mora refused to let you go back to the cargo hold, so I kind of volunteered to be your chaperon.’ His eyes twinkle merrily on the last word and I know he’s baiting me, to distract me from what he’s really saying. I decide to play along. It’s not an ideal situation, but at least I get to look around and don’t have to go back to that mattress-strewn room. Besides, Chakotay seems relatively easy-going so far, so I might be able to work around him.

‘So I guess I won’t be alone with a man until I’m properly married?’ I tease back. His grin deepens at my joke, revealing his dimples.

‘Not on my watch! So, where to? Sickbay?’

I consider for a moment. I probably should go see the Captain – wouldn’t a loving daughter want to? – but I’m still uneasy about the Betazoid. And they’d probably expect me to talk to him, isn’t that supposed to help comatose people? I don’t know what I would say. Looking up at Chakotay’s understanding eyes, I decide to stick close to the truth.

‘Is that Betazoid doctor there? I’ve never seen a real Betazoid before and she kind of scares me. Is it true they can read your thoughts?’

Chakotay shrugs. ‘I don’t think so, but I’ve never spend a lot of time with her, so I don’t really know. You should ask Mora. But if you don’t want to go to sickbay, perhaps you can help me with my work? Do you know anything about ships’ systems?’

I hesitate for a moment, wondering what’s a safe answer. But it seems best to stick to the truth as much as possible. Besides, getting my hands on the systems could prove invaluable. I might even be able to send a distress call to Starfleet, if I'm careful not to get caught. So, I give Chakotay a brilliant smile and answer in the affirmative. 'I practically grew up on starships!'

Chakotay smiles back easily. 'Wonderful. The Spartacus took quite some damage breaking you all out and-' He stops when he sees my incredulous expression.

'The Spartacus,' I repeat, unable to keep the note of mockery out of my voice. Luckily, this only seems to amuse Chakotay.

'He was a famous rebel from ancient Rome. A slave, who rose up against his masters. Seemed appropriate,' he explains.

'And he lost,' I deadpan. 'If I remember correctly, he and his entire army were crucified, the line of crosses stretching for miles along the Roman roads to deter anyone from following in his footsteps. How much of an example do you want to make of this man?'

Chakotay's expression abruptly goes from humorous to serious. 'If we lose, the Cardassians might do worse.'

My breath catches at his heavy tone. It's clear that he believes what he's saying. The thought gives me the chills, yet fills me with relief at the same time. I escaped. Chakotay helped me escape from the ruthless people he is talking about. But not before they harmed the Captain. What did they do to him? And, I wonder, looking back at Chakotay, what would make someone decide to take up arms against them regardless of the risks? I rarely find myself speechless, but now I genuinely don't know what to say.

Once again, Chakotay comes to my rescue. 'So, we better make sure our shields are working at peak efficiency, don't we?'

I manage a nod, and follow him to Engineering.

* * *

A few hours later, we've been relegated to a remote corner of the ship, indeed working on fixing one of the shield emitters. The shields - like the rest of the ship - seem rather old and have clearly seen better days, but at least the basic principles are the same as what I've learned at the Academy. Between the Academy and my father’s work, I’ve seen my fair share of starships. Though this one isn’t Starfleet, it’s clearly built according to the same basic design. Beyond the rudimentary, however, the ship is a collection of outdated components, haphazard patching and insane wiring. Even so, I could probably fix it on my own. I don’t want to seem too knowledgeable though, so I let Chakotay take the lead. I make a mental note to concoct a story of growing up on cargo ships with my father. For now, I do my best to learn as much as I can about the ship and about Chakotay. Know your enemy, as they say.

The second objective, however, turns out to be more difficult than I anticipated. As easy-going as Chakotay appears, he doesn’t divulge a lot of personal information. In part, this seems to be because he’s a rather mediocre engineer who needs to keep most of his attention on the repairs. But I suspect it’s also personal. I notice that by using some of the interview techniques I learned in a short command-track course I took to please my father, I can get him to tell me quite a bit of useful information about the ship and the Maquis in general. But asking open questions and waiting for him to fill in the silences doesn’t work when I bring the topic round to Chakotay himself. I suspect, based on the encounter we had last night, that his history is too painful for him to dredge up. I decide not to push. For one thing, I don’t want to give him leave to ask about my past. We continue working in mostly companionable silence.

* * *

'So, that ought to do it,' Chakotay finally says as he reattaches the last panel. He drags one hand through his hair, making his appearance just a tad more dishevelled. After I don't know how many hours crawling through the bowels of the ship to work on the shields, I'm feeling rather scruffy myself. Thankfully, that was the last shield emitter in our sector, so we pack up and begin to walk back to Engineering to hand in our kits.

'Well, Kate, you make quite a good engineer. Where did you learn so much about shield harmonics?'

Apparently I wasn't quite as successful at downplaying my scientific credentials as I'd hoped. Good thing I've had a few hours to work on my story. 'When you spend your childhood on one freighter or another, you pick up a thing or two,' I say. I think I've hit just the right tone between nonchalant and factual.

'Sounds exciting. What was your parents' position aboard?'

'My father's an engineer,' I reply, truthfully, 'Though he tried to keep me out of the engine room as much as possible. He thought I should know the theory before getting my hands dirty. I think he was just afraid I'd get hurt. The replicator and I never quite saw eye to eye, he probably took that as an indication of my engineering talent. Turns out, I just can't cook!'

Chakotay chuckled appreciatively. 'Too bad, we could do with a good cook around here.'

‘So I’ve noticed,' I can’t help but reply wryly. So far the food is on the wrong side of edible.

'Speaking of food, want to grab some after we're done?'

I can’t repress a grimace at the thought of the last meal. Thankfully, Chakotay guessed the target of my distaste and doesn’t take offence. 'I'd like that', I said after a moment, with only a hint of sarcasm, thinking I'd rather not face dinnertime - both the food and the people - alone. 'But I'd like to clean up first, if you don't mind.'

'I wouldn't mind a quick shower, either. How about I pick you up at Mora's place afterwards?'

'Sounds perfect!'

* * *

When I let myself into Mora's quarters, I'm surprised to find her there, fast asleep. I forgot that we are on different shifts. Our workday is her night. She'll probably have to get up before too long. Though shift change doesn't seem as regulated in the Maquis, so I'm not quite sure when hers starts. I decide not to wake her and quickly tiptoe through the room to the shower. She's still asleep when I get back, feeling delightfully refreshed. I really should take more water showers when I get back, a sonic shower just doesn't have the same effect.

I'm just about to leave when the buzzer sounds. I run the last few steps to the door, opening it quickly before Chakotay can ring again. But as I look back, I can see I am too late. Mora is already sitting up, with an expression I recognize from my roommate aboard the Al-Batani. I secretly nicknamed it the 'at attention' look. There's no way Mora is going back to sleep after that.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ I say as I take a few steps back towards her. But she’s already waving away my apologies, before diving into her closet.

‘Don’t worry about it, I have to be in sickbay soon anyway,’ she says while tossing aside one shirt after another. She holds one up, ‘what do you think of this one?’ but has discarded it before I’ve gotten a word out. I shake my head, amused despite myself, and see Chakotay smirk out of the corner of my eye.

‘Chakotay and I were about to get something to eat. Why don’t you meet us there?’

‘Good idea! I’ll be there in five minutes!’ I wave in acknowledgement before leaving the room, though I’m fairly certain she won’t see it. Though I ignore Chakotay’s comically raised eyebrow, all the years of living with Phoebe have taught me not to believe her estimation. And indeed almost twenty minutes pass before Mora joins Chakotay and me at our table. When she does, I complement her on her shirt, even though to me it looks exactly like the one she earlier held up for my inspection. The beaming smile she gives me in return shows me it was the right thing to say. Who would have guessed that growing up with Phoebe would prepare me for cohabitating with Maquis?


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next few days, we quickly fall into a routine. I continue to sleep in Mora’s room. Every morning Chakotay comes by and takes me to breakfast – which doesn’t improve – until Mora comes off duty. Because Mora’s work shifts seem to coincide with those of Doctor Azai, I never visit her in sickbay. Instead, I go after breakfast or at the end of the day. My medical knowledge is limited and there doesn´t seem to be much that can be done at the moment, except wait, so I never stay long. I tell Chakotay it´s too difficult to see my father this way and that I’d rather keep busy. Both of which is true, but it also gives me more time to think of an escape plan. After breakfast and the occasional visit to sickbay, I assist Chakotay with his maintenance duties. It doesn’t take me long to figure out the rudimentary workings of the ship. Past basics, the ship is so old and patched up that it’s sometimes almost impossible to figure out. At those times, I’m thankful for Chakotay’s presence. He’s a mediocre engineer – by Starfleet standards – but he does know most of the ship’s systems. I’m not sure if it’s deliberate or accidental, but we work almost exclusively on innocuous systems, like shields or life support. No communications or sensors, nothing to let me connect with the outside world. Still, even if we’re not specifically working on systems that could be useful to my plans, they are located in the same areas. All in all, by paying careful attention and a bit of experimentation disguised as mistakes, I manage to work out most of the communications system anyway, though it takes me almost three days. I think I know how to get an encrypted message out, disguised as random radiation. However, I need some unobserved time to set it up, just five minutes ought to do it, but Chakotay has barely taken his eyes off our work all morning. I’m not sure if it’s a coincidence or if he’s still playing chaperon. I decide to risk another _experiment_. When Chakotay turns away to put away the damaged relay we’ve just removed, I make a few quick adjustments to my hypospanner. The next time I activate it, I feel the static tickle against my fingers as it short-circuits. Because I know what’s coming, I manage to drop the hypospanner before I get hurt. As it drops to the deck, I exclaim in pain and draw my hand protectively to my chest, the way I did when it was sprained, and hope I look convincing. Chakotay certainly looks concerned when he carefully grasps my hand to inspect the damage.

‘It doesn’t look too bad, but you should visit sickbay to be safe,’ Chakotay concludes after a quick examination.

‘I’m fine,’ I insist, truthfully, as I pull back my hand and shake it out to defuse the last few tingles. ‘We should finish this first.’ I pick up the hypospanner and pretend to go back to work. ‘Damn it!’ I exclaim a moment later, ‘This thing is fried!’ I throw the hypospanner back down with my best approximation of disgust. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have brought another one, did you?’ I ask, even though I know we have only one. Chakotay shakes his head in confirmation. I’m about to sigh and ask him if he’d mind getting a new one because my hand doesn’t feel quite up to making the long crawl back yet, but Chakotay is already niggling at the panel. I can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but a moment later he turns back to me triumphantly.

‘Done!’ I gape at him. We shouldn’t have been able to fix this without a hypospanner.

‘How did you do that?’ I sputter.

Chakotay merely smirks. ‘Old Maquis trick. Shall we?’ So much for my little plan. Slightly disgruntled, I follow Chakotay out of the crawlspace. And, at his insistence, go to sickbay to have my hand checked out.

* * *

Two days later, I get a new chance. Once again Chakotay and I are working together, repairing a less-than-critical part of the secondary propulsion nodes, when the ship suddenly rocks. Another shock follows quickly. Chakotay and I glance at each other and I’m sure we both realise what is happening: weapons fire. We’re under attack.

Chakotay immediately slams the panel we’ve been working on shut – thereby protecting us both from a possible power discharge if there should be an overload in the propulsion system – and begins to crawl back to the hatch. ‘Follow me!’ he shouts at me over his shoulder. I hesitate for a moment, wondering if this is my chance, but he must have noticed that I’m not following because he glances over his shoulder, shouting ‘move!’ I follow his lead.

We reach the hatch quickly and climb out into the corridor. My feet have only just touched the floor when Chakotay grabs me by my shoulders and stares at me with an intensity I haven’t seen since his vow to protect me.

‘I have to get to my post,’ he says, ‘do you know how to get to sickbay from here? It’s the safest place.’ I almost laugh at his seriousness. Then I realise his anxiety is warranted: we’re on an old, decrepit ship in the middle of nowhere and someone is firing at us. Considering the state of this ship, the odds are good that the other party outguns us. Without the red alert warnings and orderly chaos that are ubiquitous on a Starfleet vessel in this situation, I underestimated the danger. It brings home once again that I’m out of my element. I swallow. And Chakotay is going to leave me behind.

I mentally slap myself. I’m a Starfleet officer, I don’t need him to protect me! Haven’t I been hoping for a chance like this, to roam the ship unaccompanied?

I clear my throat. ‘Yes, I know how to get to sickbay.’

I still sound a bit raspy and he probably heard it too, because he’s looking at me with worried eyes. I pull myself together and give him a shove. ‘Go, I’ll be fine!’ He gives me another worried look, but apparently I was convincing enough because he starts to run away. Soon he vanishes around a corner and I look around me. Now that I’m alone, unobserved, what should I do?

The first step is to send a message to Starfleet, but from where? And, I suddenly realise, what if it’s a Starfleet vessel attacking us? I could be rescued right now! And Chakotay and Mora could be arrested… I push that thought aside. It’s not my concern if they have to face justice. First order of business: find out who’s attacking us. There’s a way to access the sensors not far from here, where we worked on life support yesterday. If I’m not mistaken it also has access to the communications system. I take off running.

I’m right, there’s a station here to access both sensors and communication. However it’s more difficult than I thought to get access to sensors. I can’t get through to the sensor analyses, only the raw sensor data. Luckily, that’s probably enough for me to determine if it’s a Starfleet vessel or not. I start with the hull telemetry. It’s fairly easy to see that the hull of the ship that’s attacking us is not made according to standard Starfleet configurations, it’s missing a few standard trace elements. Of course, this ship could be a-typical or the sensors too decrepid to pick up their minute quantities, so next I pull up the bioreadings of the first dozen lifesigns I can find. Their biochemical make-up, though humanoid, is definitely not human. Of course not all Starfleet personnel is human, but the majority is. And these people, though not human, do share the same basic markers, so they are the same species. The odds of randomly finding twelve aliens of the same species aboard a Starfleet vessel can’t be good, so together with the different hull I’m confident this isn’t a Starfleet ship. It’s probably Cardassian. A cold shiver runs down my spine. I don’t want to go back to that Cardassian prison colony. I shove that thought aside.

Since I can’t expect help from this ship, I must figure out where we are so I can send a message to the nearest Starfleet base. I still only have access to the raw sensor data, but divining your approximate position based on sensor data was part of my survival course. I just have to find enough galactic constants. My hands fly over the old input console and the familiar work chases away the last hints of anxiety. This is what I was trained to do. Even though the situation is a far cry from what I ever expected, I find that if I can reduce it to standard patterns it’s easy to get caught up in the work. According to my calculations, we’re somewhere in the demilitarized zone between Federation and Cardassian space, which would be most logical. I know the coordinates for the nearest starbase and use those as the destination for my message. My plan to encrypt the message so it resembles radiation works perfectly, as far as I can tell. As I make the final adjustments, I hear a buzzing start in the panel next to me, which could be the beginnings of an overload. Just a few more seconds…. I just need a few more seconds to send my message.

_Yes!_ Is the last thought I have before the panel explodes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the observant reader, yes, I have upped the chapter count. I still have a few scenes that I'm working on and instead of finishing them they just turn out to be longer and longer. So it's still a work in progress, but it is progressing. Thanks for all the nice responses so far! Knowing you're waiting for the rest really helps me to keep working on it.

I wake up on the ground beneath the panel with a loud ringing in my ears. Above me, through a haze of smoke, I see sparks coming from the panel to my right. The ringing in my ears coalesces into the clear voice of the computer.

‘Warning, life support failure in eight minutes, 25 seconds. Warning, life support failure in eight minutes, 20 seconds.’

My first rational thought is that the warning makes sense, because the panel that exploded is connected to life support. I mentally shake myself awake; I have to fix this, not lie useless on the floor agreeing that it’s all very logical! I haul myself up, wincing at the pain in my head, and get to work. I have less than ten minutes before life support shuts down. As I set to work, I silently thank myself for bringing along the toolkit Chakotay and I were using. I’d be useless without it right now.

I’m hard at work bypassing a fused relay when a hand lands heavily on my shoulder, startling me out of my concentration. I whirl around to see who it is so fast that I have to blink away stars before I see that it’s Chakotay. He’s looking at me with a decided frown.

‘I thought I told you to go to sickbay,’ he criticises me angrily.

‘And let us all die when the life support gives out?’ I huff back in annoyance. The voice of the computer strengthens my case by choosing that moment to remind us there’s only three minutes, fifteen seconds left. Who programmed this thing? The intervals are downright bizarre. I shove that thought aside when I see Chakotay open his mouth again. I don’t want to hear it, so I say ‘don’t just sit there, hand me an ODN recoupler!’ and turn back to the panel. He huffs, but does as I say. With Chakotay’s help, the work goes a lot faster. Luckily, because time is running out. Until now, I’ve let Chakotay take the lead when we work together, careful to match my skills to his and not let on how much more I know about ship designs, but he easily falls into step with me too. We work well together. We can’t fix everything, not from here and certainly not with the time we have left, but I hope others are working on it too. They can hardly miss the computer’s warnings. Only one minute left. Chakotay and I exchange a grim look, we still have two relays to replace and then we have to recalibrate. Without even discussing it, he takes the relay on the left while I take the one on the right. We work in practiced harmony, almost synchronous, and finish almost simultaneously. We can’t do the recalibrations together, but before I can say a word, Chakotay gets out the tools and hands them to me. The message in his eyes is clear ‘go ahead, you can do it.’ Fifteen seconds, the computer reminds us. I go as fast as I can. Chakotay is flawless, handing me the different tools the second I need them. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. I curse the countdown, but keep my eyes on my work. Four. Three.

‘Done!’ I drop the tools, letting out a relieved breath. The silence from the countdown is bliss.

I glance at Chakotay to see him smiling broadly. ‘Good work,’ he says, ‘you just saved our lives.’

‘Glad to return the favour!’ I shoot back. Then I’m laughing, full on head thrown back laughing I’m so relieved. Chakotay’s deep chuckle joins me and then we’re hugging and smiling at each other like maniacs, just glad to be alive. I’m about to make some joke about saving his sorry behind when he suddenly stiffens and looks at his hand. I follow his gaze. There’s something dark and glistening on his fingers, could it be -?

‘You’re bleeding!’

‘I am?’ I carefully prod the back of my head where his hand was just a moment ago. I hit a painful spot and can’t hold back a wince. My hand is splattered with blood. Before I get over my surprise, Chakotay is pushing me toward the access hatch.

‘We have to get you to sickbay,’ he says. I follow his lead and quickly crawl back to the hatch and out into the corridor. I wait for him to catch up, but the moment his feet are firmly on the ground he gives me a dark look, mumbles something about reckless women and picks me up.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’ I shout at him as he runs down the corridor. The movement makes my head hurt and I push against him. He doesn’t budge.

‘I’m taking you to sickbay, where you should have been all along.’ I bristle. Who does he think he is?

‘If I’d gone to sickbay instead of stopping to fix the life support we’d all be dead right now!’ He doesn’t even respond. How dare he treat me like a child after I just saved our lives!

I hate to admit it, but the edges of my vision are becoming a bit blurred and my head is pounding. He’s probably right when he says I need to go to sickbay, but I’m too angry about the way he completely disregards my voice that there’s no way in hell I’ll say so. I do stop struggling, however. I don’t want to fall. But to let him know I don’t agree with his actions, I glare at him for all I’m worth. I’m not sure he notices.

Chakotay is fast and before long we’re in sickbay. The moment we enter the room, Chakotay starts shouting for a doctor. He makes it sound as if I’m seconds away from death. The moment he comes to a stop, I struggle out of his arms and push him away from me, giving him another glare for good measure.

‘I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own, Mister Chakotay.’ I say in my iciest tone, straightening myself fully. I’ve never hated my short stature more. I’m sure I’d be far more intimidating if I didn’t literally have to look up at him. As it is, my glare doesn’t seem to affect Chakotay at all; he glares right back.

‘I don’t know why I bother to save your life. You’re in a dance with death and it’s clear you won’t stop until he wins!’

My retort dies in my throat. His words have a ring of truth to them, and it renders me speechless. How many trips to sickbay have I made in the past few days – even disregarding my visits to Captain Paris? How many times have I escaped death? What if my luck runs out? Before I regain my voice, Mora steps between me and Chakotay. I wasn’t even aware she was in the room. Chakotay’s words are still ringing in my head. What if I die before I make it back home? How long before my family knows? Will they even realise I was here, with the Maquis, or will they think I died in the Cardassian attack where we were captured? I’ll just be one more Starfleet officer registered as missing in action. If they never find out what happened to me, what will that do to my mom? To my dad? Will he blame himself for encouraging me to follow in his footsteps and join Starfleet?

A flash of pain brings me out of my head and back to sickbay. Someone is behind me, probing the bump on my head. Before I can turn around to see who it is, I hear Mora’s calm voice, apologizing for hurting me. I realise she’s the one behind me, trying to heal the blow to my head. But where’s Chakotay? I try to look around, but all I see are patients and a medic or two. Mora stops me before I can turn any further.

‘Will you hold still please? I send Chakotay away to calm down. Everyone’s jumpy right after a run-in.’

‘What happened?’

‘We ran into a hostile ship, but managed to disable it and run.’ I notice how she says _disable _instead of _destroy _or _defeat_. Is that true? Wouldn’t they destroy a Cardassian ship if they ran across one? Could they, in this old piece of junk? And if they did, could I blame them? I’d been in that prison camp, I’ve heard the Captain’s screams. Don’t the Cardassians deserve it? I only have to look around this sickbay to see what atrocities they’re capable of. My eyes linger on the improvised screen that hides the Captain´s bunk from view.

Then again, I don´t know why they targeted the people in that camp. The Captain and I were caught spying on the Cardassians. If Starfleet caught a couple of spies, they´d interrogate them too. But they wouldn´t torture them. Would they?

Mora’s voice interrupts my thoughts. ‘Every time we go into one of those camps, I hope we find my sister. The Cardassians took her during the Occupation. I joined the Maquis to try and find her. I’m luckier than most, I still have that hope.’ She pauses as I weigh her words. I was only with the Cardassians for what… a day? And so was the Captain. I don’t want to know how we’d come out of there after a week, or a month. _If _we had gotten out. If we’d wanted to. Would it be better, I wonder, to know that your family could be in one of those torture centres? Wouldn’t they be better off… _dead_? Mora continues before I have to delve into that thought further. ‘When you lose people, it changes you. Some stop caring, even about themselves. Others are braver.’ I hear a chirp from the regenerator before Mora steps around me so she can look me in the eye. ‘Doesn’t mean they’re not afraid.’

‘Bravery is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear,’ I quote an old Earth president. Mora just smiles. She doesn’t say another word on the subject and neither do I. But her words stay with me. What would I be like, if I lost people I cared about? Would I be as brave as Chakotay and keep caring about others?


	10. Chapter 10

Days pass and nothing happens. No Starfleet rescue, no word, nothing. Then again, what did I expect? It takes a few days just for my message to reach the station. To avoid detection, I send it on a slow carrier wave. It probably hasn’t even reached Starfleet yet. And then, even if they sent out ships immediately, they’ll have to find us first. I send along my best approximation of our position, but we’ve moved on from there. I briefly consider disabling the engines, so we’ll be easier to find, but what if it isn’t Starfleet but the Cardassians who find us? We’ll be sitting ducks. So I refrain.

Instead, I continue to assist Chakotay with repairs. After our run in with the Cardassians, there are quite a few systems down, including a few we just fixed. So we go back to work.

How many days have I been here now? I didn’t really keep count at first and now I’ve lost track. A week? Less? More? I’m not sure. Still, it must have been at least five days and the Captain still hasn’t shown any sign of improvement. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he be recovering in some way, even with their old technology and limited resources? Shouldn’t he respond to_ something_?

I’m getting restless. I know Chakotay has noticed, he’s been shooting me glances all morning. I’m so distracted that I drop the coil spanner. The tool rolls away and drops down the hatch we came through on our way up. I swear loudly, and feel Chakotay’s gaze on me. I start to turn around in the small crawlspace, but his hand on my arm stops me.

‘Is everything alright, Katie?’ He asks. The diminutive of my name – which is all he knows – makes my stomach drop. I feel ten years old again and guilty for lying to him at the same time.

‘I’m fine,’ I respond while trying to squish past him, but he doesn’t let go.

‘You can tell me, Katie. I’m your friend.’ His words make me feel even worse, but once again it’s his voice that sways me. It’s warm and frank. He might be a Maquis, but from the moment we met, he’s done nothing but help and support me. I suppose, as far as confidences go, this is one I can give him. I think he realises I’ve stopped resisting, because he drops his grip on my arm and takes my hand instead. ‘Let me help, Katie.’ He sounds so earnest that I can’t help but look at him over my shoulder. His eyes are focussed solely on me and just as warm and honest as his voice. I try to give him a smile but fail and he tugs gently on my hand, turning me back to face him.

‘I’m worried about my f-father.’ Even with practice, the deception hasn’t gotten easier. I still find myself tripping over the right terminology. ‘Shouldn’t we see some sort of improvement by now? What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he…’ If he dies, I’ll be all alone here.

Chakotay sighs and my wandering gaze shifts back to his face. ‘Our medics are doing everything they can, Katie, I swear.’ Instead of reassuring me, his words make me even more aware of what he’s _not _saying. He seems to realise it too, because he continues. ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re close to a colony that’s friendly to us. They have more medical facilities there, I’m sure they can help your father.’

‘When?’ I hardly breath out, too afraid to hope.

‘Less than a day away. We’ll probably touch down tomorrow morning.’ I sag against him in relief as the weight of my worries is lifted. He lets go of my hand and for a moment I worry I’ve made a wrong move, but then his arms come up to hold me to him. I let myself relax against him. Then I freeze, horrified. What am I doing? Despite all his kindness, he is still an enemy of the Federation, an enemy of Starfleet. And I’m no longer acting. But one of his hands is stroking my hair and the other is strong around my shoulders and I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt safe like this. So I forgive myself in advance and give into the urge to lean into him and take the comfort he provides after days of living on edge. To my own surprise and dismay, I start crying. Not a tear or two that I can hide against his shoulder, but full-on, uncontrollable sobs. His arms tighten around me.  
I don’t know how long we sit like that. He just lets me cry on his shoulder, without any meaningless platitudes. It isn’t until my cries have quieted to a few stray sobs that he speaks. ‘You’re not alone, Katie,’ he whispers right by my ear, and a shiver goes through me. He sounds so heartfelt as he almost echoes my earlier thoughts. It brings me back to myself and I pull away from him. Drying the tear tracks down my face gives me an excuse not to look at him. When I feel like I’ve got myself under control, I murmur ‘thanks’ and try to give him a grateful smile. He seems to respect my embarrassment, not realising that it’s not for the reason he thinks. This time when I go to get the ‘spanner, he doesn’t stop me. We go back to working together amiably and this time he seems unaware of the distracting thoughts running through my head, which is just as well. He doesn’t mention the colony or any part of our conversation again, though when he leaves me at Mora’s quarters that night, he gives me another warm smile. I think he’s giving me another chance to gain comfort from him. If I give him any indication that I want to, he’ll hug me again, I’m sure. But I can’t, even though I want to. Every move I make feels like a betrayal of either Starfleet or Chakotay. Hugging him, when I’m strong enough to avoid it, feels like both. I can forgive myself for a moment of weakness, but if I give in now it’s a conscious choice. So I stay perfectly still and after a moment he turns around and leaves. Once I enter Mora’s quarters and the door closes firmly behind me, I let out a deep breath, relieved and disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, readers, but the next chapter might be late. It's one of the two chapters I'm still working on and it just won't stop expanding. I'm seriously considering splitting it in two _again_. I'll do what I can and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter, there was quite a bit still to work out. But I've gotten quite some work done and will hopefully be able to post the next chapter this weekend and get back on scedule. But first, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Just as Chakotay promised, when I wake up the next morning there’s a buzz in the air. The frantic excitement of reaching a destination looks very different on a Maquis ship than it does on a Starfleet vessel, but there’s the same press to get everything ready in time. On a Starfleet vessel, that usually means getting the ship in near perfect condition. In this case, it means making sure the landing gear is operational and the ship is strong enough to survive entry into the atmosphere. Apparently this ship doesn’t have any shuttles – I’m guessing they have neither the material nor the space for that – and the transporters are unreliable. I help Chakotay fix odds and ends all morning. When the time comes, Chakotay asks me to go to sickbay and stay there until we’ve set down. I’m about to argue, to make up some reason why I have to be near a viewport – does this ship even have them? – when we land, but he looks at me so earnestly. Mora’s words from days before go through my head. He must have lost people, but he cares about me. I know he’s just trying to look after me. I know myself well enough that if there had been even a hint of command or pressure in Chakotay’s words or gaze I wouldn’t have gone. But I do. What use would it have been, anyway, to see a planet I have in all likelihood never seen before? So I go to sickbay and wait patiently at the captain’s bedside.

The landing is rough, even from our relatively sheltered location, but considering the ship’s state it’s better than I expected. True to his word Chakotay shows up soon after. Now that we’re on the ground, sickbay is a study in rampant chaos. Medical personnel and other crew begin to evacuate patients. Chakotay picks up the front end of the stretcher the Captain has been settled on and tells me to follow him. I jump up to pitch in. We struggle a bit to find our rhythm, especially through the corridors of the ship. Our difference in size doesn’t make it easier to coordinate. It doesn’t let up once we step outside. For one thing it’s dark here, even though it was well into the morning in ship’s time. We’ve landed in the middle of a forest. Or, considering the heat that hits me as soon as I set foot outside, a jungle. Thankfully there is a semi-lit path through the vegetation large enough for us to navigate without problems. We walk for only a few minutes before I see the increase in light that heralds the beginnings of a town. As the trees make way for buildings, Chakotay calmly leads on. He clearly knows his way around, as he easily zig zags through the town. It doesn’t seem very big, probably has no more than a few thousand inhabitants. The houses are white and square, like you’d see in the less temperate zones on Earth, a couple of centuries ago. Most are only one or two stories high.

I’m so busy looking around that I don’t notice Chakotay has stopped until the stretcher hits me in the ribs. Chakotay knocks on the door of one of the white buildings and soon after a small woman opens the door. She seems to be human, with dark hair and tan skin. Chakotay greets her as _Kimmy_. She welcomes us both in and directs us to a room in the back of the house. It takes a bit of manoeuvring to get the Captain from the stretcher and onto the bed there, but we manage. Chakotay notices how I glance at the door hopefully and chuckles softly.

‘It’s the middle of the night here, Katie. I’m sure they’ll be here first thing to help your father, but get some sleep first.’ He glances significantly at the bed in the other corner before giving me a wide smile and walking out. Kimmy gives me a kind smile and follows him. I sigh and tumble down on the bed with no choice but to take his advice.

* * *

Despite our arrival in the middle of the night, I’m up at first light the next morning. I try to sneak out and find somewhere to wash without waking Kimmy, but I needn’t have bothered because she is already in the kitchen. I try to ask her when the doctor will get here, but she just gives me the same kind smile as before, hands me a cup of something warm and waives me to a chair at the kitchen table. The sweet whiff of coffee convinces me, so I sit down in one of the handmade chairs, take a deep breath of the wonderful aroma and a large sip of the wonderful brew. Then I ask again. She just gives me the same kind smile and continues rummaging around the kitchen, pulling out a skillet from one of the cupboards and ignoring my questions. It takes me longer than I’d care to admit to realise that Kimmy doesn’t understand a word I say. I soundly curse myself and the Cardassians for taking away my universal translator and then start trying to get my meaning across through signs and pointing. I’m unsuccessful. Even getting the word ‘doctor’ across seems to be beyond my capabilities. Ten minutes later I’m enjoying a lovely omelette but am still no closer to finding out when the doctor’s coming. The next few hours go by very slowly. I wait for the doctor, but I’m not a patient person so I spend most of the time pacing up and down the small back room with the Captain’s cot. A few times my impatience wins from my need to be there when the doctor comes and I walk out to explore my new surroundings. I never get beyond the first ten houses before my worry brings me right back.

When a knock sounds around lunchtime I’m at the door in record time. I open the door just as Kimmy appears from the kitchen. My spirits lift at the sight of Mora, but she’s not carrying any equipment and she’s on her own.

‘I’m sorry, Katie,’ she says, ‘but it’ll be a while yet. The doctor is working on the most urgent cases first.’

I manage to keep a very uncharitable thought in, but my facial expression probably speaks volumes. Mora clearly notices my disquiet, because she continues.

‘I know it’s difficult to hear that, but I assure you that your father is one of our priorities. But for the moment he’s comfortable and stable, some of our other patients aren’t. I promise you, we’ll be here tonight or tomorrow morning at the latest.’

Her words don’t really satisfy me, but I remember a patient on the ship who had to be sedated because he was constantly in terrible pain so I don’t push. During lunch, for which Mora sticks around, I try to participate in the conversation because Mora apparently can’t converse with Kimmy either, but as much as I like her it’s still somewhat of a relief when she leaves.

Now that I know the doctor won’t be here before the end of the day, which is still a couple of hours away, I decide to go out and explore for a while. I start in the town, but the monotony of it quickly gets on my nerves. It’s probably my lack of interest because my mind is somewhere else, but all the houses look the same. Even the people blur together. I probably can’t communicate with them anyway, not without my comm. badge. My parents are right; I’m a true child of the 24th century. I can’t do anything without a computer. How long could I survive in a place like this on my own? Brilliant Kathryn Janeway, desperate to explore the universe. I wouldn’t even be able to feed myself! Out here, all my training, all those years of hard work; what is it worth?

Before I know it, I’ve left the settlement behind me and I’m surrounded by foliage. For a moment I freeze, overcome by my own stupidity. How could I just walk into the wilderness like this? Without a path, or a tricorder to find my way back? I’m fortunate that I’m still close enough to the town to hear its activity, otherwise a few moments of inattention could have gotten me lost. But now I’m trapped. I can’t go deeper into the jungle without running the risk that I won’t find my way back, yet I don’t want to turn back. It’s almost funny. Here I am, trapped physically as well as mentally. Caught between jungle and civilization, Starfleet and Maquis.

With no alternative, I decide to make the best of this place. At least I’m alone, so I don’t have to keep up an act. And it’s lovely, in a way. There’s a large rock a couple of feet away and after I carefully look around it for dangerous flora or fauna, I make myself comfortable.

What is my family doing now, I wonder. Mom, dad, Phoebe. Are they worried about me? The last time I spoke to them Phoebe was still in art classes. Was it only two weeks ago? This isn’t the longest I’ve been away from them and it’s probably not even the furthest, yet this feels different. I’ve never felt so far away from them. Before, no matter where I was, I could comm them. Or if we were out of comm. range, I could send a message. Now I have no way to do either, not without risk of discovery.

My mom’s birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I hadn’t even planned on being there, even though I do have leave coming up. But no, I was only on my first assignment, I couldn’t possibly travel back to Earth now, not for something as trivial as my mom’s birthday. Always putting my career first, just like daddy. Do I really want to be like him? Is science more important than spending time with my family? Is discovering some unknown particle or seeing a natural phenomenon no human has seen before really worth everything? Out here, with the Maquis, I’m cut off from both my career and my family, but it’s not the work I miss. I guess I expected them to be there, to contact when I want to and come home to when I feel like it. They’re a constant that I’ve taken for granted.

Suddenly I don’t know why I’m sitting here. I’m going to find Chakotay and I’m going to do whatever I can to get back home. He’s probably working on the ship, as we’ve done every other day. I’ll help him until it’s time for the doctor to drop by and heal the Captain. And then, when the Captain is conscious again, we’ll figure out a way to get back to Earth.

With renewed vigour, I get up and march back to the settlement.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on the last chapter, but with this one I'm back on scedule. It also happens to be one of my favourites, so I hope you enjoy.

The path to the Maquis ship is easy to find. It’s wide enough that we could carry a stretcher through it in the dark after all. The vessel itself reminds me of a beehive. There are people buzzing around it, talking or working on repairs. There are even people clamouring over the hull to work on bits you can usually only reach with an environmental suit. Chakotay, however, isn’t among them. No one stops me as I go in. I’ve learned to navigate my way around by now, especially to the places Chakotay and I helped repair. He isn’t in any of them. Perhaps he’s in his quarters, but I don’t know where those are. He always came to Mora’s to pick me up.

I realise that I’m not going to find him. Of course, I could help one of the dozen other Maquis I’ve seen so far. But I don’t want to. Not knowing where Chakotay is leaves me feeling unsettled. His presence has been a constant the past few days, familiar in a strange world.

I roam through the ship for a while before I give up and go back to Kimmy’s to wait for the doctor.

* * *

The doctor finally shows up not long after I get back. He’s human, with the same colouring as Kimmy and Chakotay. Almost all of the people here are. Mora is with him, as is the Maquis nurse who healed my wrist. They bring along a lot of equipment, though most of it appears to be no larger than a tricorder. There’s no diagnostic bed like in a Federation facility.

The doctor runs a few different devices over the Captain, some I recognize as medical scanners, others I don’t. It doesn’t take very long, perhaps half an hour. Every now and then the doctor exchanges a few words with Mora and the nurse, but they’re in a language I don’t understand. Then they pack up. I wait for an explanation, but the doctor and nurse just pass me with a smile. Only Mora stays.

‘We’ve run a bunch of different scans. We’ll have to run them through the computer. We’ll probably be back tomorrow morning with the first results.’ Then she smiles and leaves with the others.

* * *

I hardly sleep at all. I toss and turn all night. When the first light of dawn breaks, I give up and get up. My eyes feel dry and tired and my head is heavy. I wash up and change slowly. Kimmy doesn’t appear to be up yet, so I sneak outside to watch the sunrise. It’s beautiful, but after a while the light makes my head pound, so I go back in. Kimmy is in the kitchen, making breakfast. I take a seat at the table, dozing a little and hoping that my headache will recede.

Breakfast helps a little. The food is wonderful, far better than on a the Maquis ship. About halfway through Chakotay joins us. I only half notice that he brings along a big pot until he pours a mug and puts it in front of me. The delicious aroma of coffee jolts me into action. I grab the mug and take a large whiff of the wonderful liquid. ‘Thank you!’ I savour the sweet beverage as Kimmy and Chakotay converse. Instead of waking me up, the coffee helps me to relax enough that my headache starts receding. I’m dozing, thinking of going back to bed and catching a few more minutes of sleep when there’s a knock on the front door. I shoot up, but then hesitate. Kimmy goes to open the door. Just like yesterday, the doctor, nurse and Mora pour in. I feel myself getting jittery and am vaguely aware of Chakotay coming to stand next to me. But they merely exchange a few words of greeting before walking through to the bedroom in the back. I rush after them only to come to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Once again, they’re hovering over the Captain’s bed and Meyer is taking out more tools. Are they going to fix him right now? My rush of hope abruptly crashes back down when Mora comes over and in a soothing voice explains to me that they need to run a few more scans. I… I don’t know what to do. I can’t stand any more waiting. But what choice do I have?

‘Perhaps you’d better take a seat,’ Mora suggests. I don’t resist when a strong arm comes around my shoulders and leads me back to the kitchen table. I let myself get gently pushed into a chair. Chakotay’s arm vanishes, but he stays close and takes the seat next to mine. I appreciate his protective presence, but I’m not in any state to talk. Neither is he, apparently, so we wait in silence.

After what seems like forever, footsteps return and the doctor takes a seat across from me. He start to explain to me in halting standard what their scans have discovered, but I’m too rung out to appreciate the long explanation and I have trouble focussing on his words. I just want to know that they’ll fix it. That they’ll fix the Captain. The longer his explanation takes, the more anxious I become. I want to tell him to get to the point, but can’t muster the energy. Finally he falls silent and I realise I haven’t been looking at him but at the table when my eyes snap back. Nor have I heard a word he said.

He’s looking at me silently, expectantly. The silent lingers for an uncomfortable moment until I realise he’s waiting for my reaction. I clear my throat, looking for a response. The only words that come are those that have been haunting my mind for the past few hours. ‘When will he wake up?’

The doctor’s expression changes and I realise it’s pity I see there. Suddenly I hate the very sight of him.

‘I’m sorry, miss Johnson, but we as I explained, we do not have the… facilities to cure your father. The injuries to his mind are too…’ he hesitates, clearly looking for a word he doesn’t know. I stare at him, furiously, as he thinks. ‘-Many,’ he finally finishes lamely and I want to hurt him. For his poor language skills, for his pity, but most of all for failing the Captain.

‘Well what use are you then?’ I demand heatedly, as I push myself away from the table and stand up. I don’t care that my chair nearly falls over. They’re all looking at me with that same look of pity, the doctor, nurse, Mora, even Kimmy. The only expression I can’t see is Chakotay’s, because he’s also standing – when did he get up? – and if I look up I might cry. I rush out the front door before my tears can win and I humiliate myself further. I don’t slam the door, but only because the moment I get outside I hesitate because I have no idea where I can go. I want to be alone, I think, but by rushing out of the house I’ve put myself right in the middle of the settlement.

I hear the door creaking slightly and I know who it is before I feel his warm hands on my shoulders. ‘Katie,’ he says, in a tone that caring but not pitiful. It almost makes me break down and I don’t want to, so instead I lash out at him.

‘And you!’ I shout, turning to face him. ‘You said they’d be able to heal him here! That everything would be fine! That-’ he said no such things, but I don’t care. I don’t care!

I’m not even sure what else I screamed at him, but I yell until I’m spent. He just looks at me until, apparently, he’s decided I’m done.

‘Come with me,’ he says, not unkindly, before grabbing my hand, turning around and setting off and dragging me behind him.

I look at his back, stunned, but follow. When he realises I’m doing as told he releases my hand without looking around. I fell awfully small without it, but continue on. Meanwhile my mind is racing. After my outburst, I expected him to yell back or storm off. To show me some fire. Anything but this. But then, I’ve never seen him angry or violent, except in his sleep. He’s always in control. How does a man like that join the Maquis? Could he be… an informer? A Starfleet infiltrator?

No. As soon as the thought enters my mind I dismiss it. He couldn’t be. And he’s not the only one who’s shown me kindness. Mora has been wonderful. And Kimmy who opened her home to us. The doctor and nurses have been nice enough. They can’t all be Starfleet or the Maquis would have been history months ago. And they never would have rescued me…

More confused than ever, I follow him. He marches through the settlement determinedly, I almost have to run to keep up with his long strides, and without hesitation walks straight into the surrounding jungle. He doesn’t say a word as he expertly makes his way through the plant life. He seems to know where he’s going. I don’t have a lot of breath for talking and I’m too busy dodging through the flora so I follow in silence. Where are we going?

Following after Chakotay keeps me busy – and is it me or is the ground rising? – but when more than fifteen minutes have passed without a word my patience runs out. I try to speed up to catch up with Chakotay, but end up tripping over a root or some such, barely manage to keep myself upright and hunch over, trying to catch my breath. ‘Wait!’ is the best I can gasp out. I guess I should have taken Nimembeh’s classes more serious…

Chakotay stops and turns around, an infuriating smirk on his face. I’m too busy gulping in breath to do more than raise an angry eyebrow at him. ‘_Where _are we going?’ I finally inquire, with perhaps a bit more bite than is warranted. Chakotay merely smirks at my tone and takes my use of a full sentence as a sign to continue.

‘You’ll have to come along to find out,’ he calls back over his shoulder and I curse him soundly before following. As we walk, I feel my anger slowly fading.

About ten more minutes pass before I realise that we _are _climbing. The absurdity of the situation hits me. Here I am, on an unfamiliar planet, presumably in the Demilitarized Zone, following a self-proclaimed terrorist into the wilderness. Of my own free will! If someone had told me this six months ago, I would have laughed them out of the room. Still, the designation ‘terrorist’ for Chakotay gnaws at me, even in my own thoughts. After all he’s done for me, he doesn’t deserve the moniker. Then again, I don’t know all that he’s done. I’ve known him less than two weeks. For all I know, before we met, he’d been spending his time blowing up Starfleet and Cardassian settlements at random. That doesn’t fit with the man I know though. But what about the man who went into a Cardassian camp and killed or at the very least wounded Cardassians in close combat, judging by the dried blood on his clothes afterwards? And saved I don’t know how many people in the process? My mind seesaws wildly from one extreme to the other, unable to find a balance. As much as I try, I can’t reconcile the violent Maquis Starfleet propagates with the man I’ve come to know. The man I trust enough to follow into the unknown…

‘Katie, wait!’ Chakotay’s arms around my waist stop me and pull me out of my own thoughts. I’m on a cliff, and if Chakotay hadn’t stopped me, I would have walked right off it, so deeply immersed was I in thought. I feel my cheeks heat up and know I must be blushing furiously. Apparently, I would have followed Chakotay right off a cliff…

His worried eyes stare at me intensely. ‘Katie, are you alright?’

I smile sheepishly. ‘My father used to joke I could be so deep in thought, one of these days I’d walk right into a stream. I guess he was right…’

My self-deprecating words bring a brief smile to his face and he releases me, but then he becomes serious again. ‘I know you’re worried about him, Katie. I wish there was more we could do for him.’ He looks so earnest. Here I’ve been silently labelling him a terrorist, when he and his comrades are doing everything they can to heal my pretend father from the wounds our so-called allies have inflicted upon him. I am ashamed of my own culpability, and look away so he won’t see the guilt in my eyes. I swear to myself then that if we ever make it back home, I won’t do anything to help Starfleet hunt the Maquis down. They deserve at least that much. Only then can I look Chakotay in the eye.

As I glance back up, I note his worried frown and his kind eyes. I realise that in the short time we’ve know each other, Chakotay has become very dear to me. For one brief moment, I allow myself to abandon all pretence and guile and sincerely say ‘thank you, Chakotay, for saving my life and everything after that.’ I’ve never meant anything more.

Chakotay’s face splits into a wonderful smile that lifts the perpetual shadows from his face and brings a crinkle to his eyes. ‘You’re welcome, Katie,’ he says warmly.

I smile back, and we stare at each other until the moment moves from comfortable to awkward. I quickly look away. The view in front of me is a welcome distraction. I feel my breath catch as I look past the cliff and into the valley below. It is breath-taking. Sheer stone cliffs framed and partly overrun by trees and wildlife.

‘Chakotay, it’s beautiful,’ I whisper. It reminds me of one of the nature preserves my parents took me hiking in as a child: Yosemite. There are trees standing no more than a meter away from us, right up to the cliff. That’s probably why I didn’t notice the drop. They have little white buds in them. I take a few steps to the closest and reach up for a blossom. It has already opened slightly, about to flower. It reminds me of a small rose and I smile.

‘Boothby would love these,’ I say without thinking.

‘Boothby?’ Chakotay echoes.

‘The groundskeeper at my old school. He used to bring me flowers for my room.’ I stroke the soft petals, trying to imagine what it will look like fully blooming.

After a few moments I realise Chakotay’s body language has changed. The earlier feeling of camaraderie is abruptly gone, and I feel the tension rolling off him. I’m about to look up when he says, ‘You’re Starfleet.’ Gone is the warmth in his voice. My eyes snap back to his quickly enough to see them change from shock to pain and – just as quickly – to anger.

How can I have been so careless? But I hadn’t even thought about it, because the only people who know Boothby are other Starfleet officers. So many little things fall into place. His posture. He often stands with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet set apart. The classic _at ease _pose. Even the hold he’d restrained me with back in the Cardassian camp was straight out of the Starfleet manual. Is that why he feels so familiar? Perhaps he really is a Starfleet infiltrant… ‘You’re Starfleet,’ I whisper, hope surging through me.

‘I was.’ My eyes have been running over his body, looking for anything familiar, anything Starfleet. At his words, which are practically growled, they shoot back up to his face. There is hatred etched in every line. His eyes are blazing with it so fiercely that I have to stop myself from taking a step back. He looks at me as if I’m the enemy. For the first time since he rescued me from that prison cell, I worry that he’ll hurt me. There is a cliff just behind me…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's the closest I've ever come to a literal cliffhanger. It feels deliciously wicked! It also makes me very curious: what do you think Chakotay will do? Let me know in the comments!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this chapter up a few days early, but it's been a hell of a week with - among other things - the death of a colleague. Sorry for keeping you in suspence! I hope you love this chapter!

Seconds tick by slowly as if the world has frozen along with me. I eventually realise two things.

First, I refuse to die like this, like a frightened mouse. If I have to die, I’ll go down fighting. I’m a Starfleet officer.

Second, Chakotay doesn’t want to kill me. He’s looking at me with more hatred than I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face, but he hasn’t even touched me. He could have easily shoved me off the cliff while I stood there frozen. But he hasn’t. His hands are clenched at his sides into fists so tight his knuckles are white. But they don’t move. He has the means and the motive, but he’s not a murderer. He’s a good man. I’ve known it instinctively from the moment I first heard his voice, but I didn’t want to trust my gut. I have to trust it - and him - now. And if a good man like him hates Starfleet so much, there must be a good reason.

I’ve heard rumours. Not from the Fednews or Starfleet, but from my father. Rumours of terrible things happening to the former Federation colonies in the Demilitarized Zone. Of Cardassian atrocities. Having been a prisoner of the Cardassians, the rumours aren’t as difficult to believe as they were a few months ago. And Chakotay, his vow to protect me. I’ve thought it before, but what if…

My heart aches for him. Without conscious thought, I reach for him, placing my hand on his arm. ‘I’m so sorry, Chakotay.’

He recoils from my words and my touch. Not with revulsion; he cringes like a dog that’s been kicked. Like someone who is expecting pain, not sympathy, and I know my guess is correct. He lost someone he loved to the Cardassians, while the Federation and Starfleet stood by and did nothing. He’s still hurting, still reeling from it. It makes him lash out, suspicious, like a dog baring it’s teeth to warn you away. But I know dogs, and I know him. He won’t hurt me.

‘Chakotay, please look at me,’ I say softly, soothingly. I’m careful to keep my hand exactly where it is, hovering over his arm. Not touching, but not backing away either. ‘Please look at me, Chakotay. I understand and I’m sorry.’ I keep talking and inching closer. Not touching him, but slowly and carefully invading his space. He’s closed his eyes and he’s shaking like a leaf, probably fighting emotions that he’s suppressed for god knows how long. When he finally opens his eyes and looks at me, not a trace of hate remains. Instead there’s so much grief in them that my heart constricts and my breath hitches. ‘Oh Chakotay,’ I whisper, overcome with sympathy.

That’s when he breaks, there’s no other word for it. Before I know it, his arms close around me and he clasps me to him almost painfully, burying his face in my hair. His whole body shakes, but this time not with tension but with tears. Has he ever cried for whomever he lost? Or is this the first time? My voice has died away at the sound of his tears, but I hold him as tight as I can. Much of his weight is leaning on me and before long he becomes too heavy for me to hold up. If we don’t move, he might actually push me off the cliff without meaning to.

I gently ease away and he lets me lead him off the edge. I guide him to one of the trees I admired earlier and help him sit down underneath. Then I carefully ease down next to him. He’s no longer holding me to him, but he’s clutching my hand as if it’s a lifeline. I squeeze his hand and pull him towards me until his head is resting on my shoulder. For once in this strange situation, I don’t think. No role to play, no secrets to keep. I just feel. His large frame shuddering in my arms. The softness of his hair as my hand cards through it soothingly. The steady beating of his heart against my chest. I share his grief.

His breathing slowly steadies and he withdraws. I’m reluctant to let him go, so I close my eyes to hold on to the feeling. How can comforting him feel so safe?

Suddenly I feel his thumb on my cheek, wiping away tears I wasn’t aware I’d let fall. My eyes snap open and I freeze again, caught in his gaze. He’s looking at me as if he hasn’t seen me before. I guess he hasn’t, not the real me. The thought is somehow painful. I feel like I know _him_.

He keeps staring at me. There’s a power in his gaze, an intensity I haven’t seen before. It’s mesmerizing. He’s still holding my chin, his thumb grazing my cheek so gently I’m not sure it’s really there.

‘Thank you, Katie,’ he finally says, his voice soft and husky from crying.

‘Kathryn,’ I say, ‘my name is Kathryn.’

He smiles, not so much with his lips, but with his eyes. I’ve never seen such kind eyes. ‘Nice to meet you Kathryn.’

I smile.

* * *

Later, as we sit there on the edge, he tells me about his family. About his father, proud and quick to smile, with an almost endless store of ancient legends. His mother, kind and wise. A younger sister, always getting into mischief. A whole family, described in loving detail. He doesn't have to tell me that they're all dead, I know.

I tell him about my family too. My father and mother and sister. I don’t tell him that the Captain isn’t my father but my senior officer; he knows.

I fall silent.

‘I’ll help you get back to them, Kathryn.’ It sounds like a vow and, looking in his eyes, I know it is.


	14. Chapter 14

Over the next few days, we meet at the cliff regularly and come up with a plan. I’m amazed by how good it feels that Chakotay knows the truth. In Starfleet you’re never alone. You’re part of a command structure, you have a team to fall back on as well as your training and protocol. It has been hard to navigate a difficult situation without backup and with the added responsibility of someone else’s wellbeing on my shoulders. Knowing that Chakotay has my back and that we’re working towards the same goal, together… It means a lot.

As it turns out, the first part – getting off the planet – is easy. The other people the Maquis rescued are being transported as we speak. Most of them are from the former colonies in the Demilitarized Zone. Those that can be are taken back to their home with whatever spacecraft the colony can spare. The others, the people who can’t go home, will stay on this world or will be taken to other communities willing to shelter them. Chakotay can find us one of those shuttles and take us away. The problem is where we’ll go. It’s the Demilitarized Zone, so there are no Starfleet outposts nearby. The nearest foothold is quite a ways off through dangerous areas of space. It won’t help if we escape here only to get recaptured by the Cardassians, or caught in the crossfire. And Chakotay is adamant that we don’t involve anyone from the ship. They’ve never liberated Starfleet personnel before, as far as Chakotay is aware. Apparently the Rangers are usually good about getting out their own. There’s a lot of hate for Starfleet among the Maquis and Chakotay worries about how the knowledge that two officers have been among them all this time will be received. They might think we’re spies, or someone carrying a grudge could take matters into their own hands. We even decide against involving Mora. I think she’d help, but I don’t want to compromise her any more than she already has been. And as it turns out, we don’t need her.

* * *

It's barely dawn when Chakotay lets himself into my room and wakes me up. I get ready in record time while he checks on the Captain. There is still no change in his condition, though Kimmy takes good care of him. I said goodbye to her last night, with Chakotay’s help. I sling the satchel with food she prepared for us over my shoulder and go to help Chakotay with the Captain. It’s only been a few days since we transferred the Captain from a stretcher to the bed and now we’re putting him right back. I feel a moment of worry that he still hasn’t woken up and a pang of sadness too. How much easier would it have been if we’d done this together? If I didn’t have to do all this alone?

‘Ready?’ Chakotay asks. I amend my thought, I wasn’t alone. Besides, as my mother says, it’s no use crying over spilt milk. I nod and together we lift up the stretcher.

Despite the early hour, the settlement is already stirring as we walk through it. The people here are mostly farmers, getting up with first light. We’re not exactly sneaking out, Chakotay told his commander what he was doing – parts of it anyway – and the colonist who owns the shuttle we’ll use lent it willingly. Still, we thought leaving in the early morning to be a prudent precaution.

We locate the shuttle easily, though the word ‘shuttle’ is generous. ‘Dingy’ would be more to the point. It’s mostly used for small supply runs to the next planet and looks like it has seen more years than I have. But it’ll have to do.

The ship has no bunks or quarters so we make the Captain as comfortable as possible in the small cargo hold. Chakotay tries to convince me to stay with him, but there really isn’t any space. Besides, I feel like I’ve been waiting for far too long. I’m ready to get into the thick of it. Chakotay takes the helm and I squeeze in beside him as co-pilot. Take-off is smoother than I expected and we’re soon off the planet and laying in a course out of the system.

* * *

Our journey is smooth if long. The ship, which I’ve lovingly begun to refer to as ‘our old dear’, has a top speed hardly worthy of the name, but she’s dependable. Luckily we only have to get to the fourth planet of the next system.

Our landing is not as smooth as our departure. Chakotay brings us in hot and before I know it we’re soaring over a vast forest. The plant life is dense, with not a clearing in sight. I expect us to land past the tree line, though I can’t see an end yet, but Chakotay takes us to right above the canopy. I’m about to protest when Chakotay glances my way.

‘Trust me, Kathryn.’

He’s been calling me by my full name since he first learned it, though only when we’re alone, and the sound brings a touch of warmth every time he says it. It means no more lies, just me, warts and all. So I hold my tongue. He’s gotten me this far. I trust him.

I don’t even see the gap in the trees until we’re right above it. It’s barely the size of our ship. Chakotay takes us in smoothly, but I imagine that if it wasn’t for the shields I’d be hearing the sound of branches scratching at the bulkheads. We set down easily and Chakotay and I quickly run through the post-flight check. Now that we both know of the other’s Starfleet training, we work together seamlessly, knowing that we use the same rulebook. Once we’re sure everything is safely powered down, I run a bio scan.

I frown when I see the results. ‘There are no humanoid lifeforms within two kilometres.’

Chakotay just smiles at me. ‘Don’t worry, we’re early. He’ll be here.’


	15. Chapter 15

To have something to do, I go in the back and check on the Captain. His condition is still unchanged. I used to be good at waiting. As a child, I used to sit beneath my father’s desk for hours, just waiting. Waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to have time for me. Sometimes the wait was long, but he never disappointed. Perhaps that’s why this is different. Now when I wait I don’t know what or who to expect. Before I know it I’m pacing. The cramped conditions of the ship don’t give me much room for it. Three steps from one bulkhead to the next, two till the next wall. Over and over.

Finally, when I pass Chakotay for the umpteenth time, his hand shoots out to stop me. ‘Could you sit down, you’re making me nervous.’ He jokes, ‘We’ve got almost hour before the rendezvous. Here, have something to eat.’ His hand leaves my arm and he turns away to rummage in a small wall compartment. I decide to humour him and sit back down in the co-pilot seat. Because of the close quarters, the pilot and co-pilot seat can turn sideways so you can get in without having to clamour over the top. Chakotay takes out two packets, swivels back to me so we’re facing each other again, and gives me one of the packets. My eyebrows shoot up when I recognize Starfleet emergency rations.

Chakotay grins. ‘Don’t ask.’ His eyes twinkle with dark humour.

I tear open the packet and take a bite. Is it me or has the taste of these things improved? They probably just seem less awful compared to the food the Maquis serve, I think wryly to myself. I glance at Chakotay to gauge his reaction. The laugh lines around his eyes deepen further as he sees mine and I realise he knows exactly what I’m thinking. The thought that he can read me so easily makes me slightly uncomfortable.

‘Shouldn’t we be running continuous sensor sweeps or something?’ I say to deflect attention.

He doesn’t even glance at the control panel. ‘I told you, we’ve got about an hour before my contact gets here.’

‘What about Cardassians? Aren’t you worried they’ll find us?’ Though I only say it to get his steady gaze off me, the thought still scares me a little. I realise Chakotay has seen that reaction too when he leans over and puts a warm hand on my knee.

‘Don’t worry, we’re safe here for now. We’re well hidden.’ I’m about to retort when I realise the recognition goes both ways. There’s something in his eyes, telling me there’s more to what he’s saying. My mind whirls as several pieces fall into place.

‘This clearing is protected isn’t it?’ I don’t have to wait for a response, the answer is right in his eyes. ‘There’s some kind of camouflage,’ that’s why I didn’t see the clearing until we were already landing. ‘And there’s probably a few more clearings like that around here.’

‘Quite a few,’ Chakotay confirms.

My eyes shine at their ingenuity. ‘How? Is it some kind of cloak, or hologram? Wait!’ I exclaim, before he can answer. My hand shoots up to illustrate my words. ‘I don’t want to know. I can’t tell Starfleet something I don’t know.’

Chakotay sobers at my words, the smile sliding off his face until it is carefully neutral. ‘What will you tell them when you get back?’

I hesitate. Is this a test? Will he still let me go if I give the wrong answer? I study him carefully. No, this is not a test, just a question. Though I couldn’t fault him if it was, he has to protect himself too, and the others. So what will I say?

The truth is, I don’t know. I’ve been so focussed on getting back home that I haven’t really thought about what will happen when I do. I take a moment to think it over. ‘I’ll tell them the truth, or as much as I can without putting you in danger. I’ll tell them a brave Maquis warrior called Chakotay rescued me and Captain Paris from the Cardassians.’

Chakotay’s careful neutrality softens. ‘A brave Maquis warrior, huh?’ He teases gently, showing the dimples in his cheeks. I smile back. Then he pulls away, once again turning serious. ‘I’d rather you didn’t mention me.’ I frown, both at the words and at the distance he’s suddenly put between us. ‘When I resigned from Starfleet, it was probably clear to them that I was going to join the Maquis, but I’d rather you didn’t confirm it.’

I learn forward, closing some of the distance between us, but I stop myself from reaching out. ‘Why not? You rescued us, that’s not something to be ashamed of, Chakotay.’

He sighs and looks down. ‘No, but that’s not the only thing I’ve done since I joined the Maquis. Some of the things I did…’ There’s so much guilt in his posture that it tears at my heart. He doesn’t deserve all this pain.

‘You’re a good man, Chakotay. You saved me, in more ways than one.’ He looks up and his eyes are filled with so much self-recrimination that it hurts. I ache to reach out and hug him, but I’m not sure how to do that when he’s sitting. Instead, I reach for his hand, the one that until a minute ago was resting on my knee to comfort _me_, and I cradle it in both of mine. I’m relieved to see some of the darkness leaving his eyes and on impulse I press a kiss to his knuckles.

‘I promised to keep you safe.’ He says it as if that promise negates any need for gratitude. I decide to move past that and lighten the mood a bit.

‘I wasn’t sure if you remembered that.’ I smile as I say it and am glad to see him return it. Time to circle back to our original topic. ‘I guess I understand why you don’t want Starfleet to know you’re involved, but what if they capture you? They’ll probably condemn you for your sins – real or otherwise – without counting the good you’ve done.’ It hurts me to say this about the organization I’ve dedicated my life to, but I’ve heard enough from my father to know it’s not unlikely. That thought gives me an idea. ‘If you’re ever in trouble with Starfleet, ask for Admiral Janeway.’ Chakotay raises one eyebrow and glances towards the back, as if wondering if I’m talking about the Captain, but I shake my head. ‘My father. I’ll tell him everything that happened.’

Chakotay nods before once again turning mischievous. ‘So you’re an admiral’s brat?’ I can’t help but laugh at his tone.

‘Guilty as charged!’ I quip, but the joke falls flat, too close to what Chakotay is feeling. I can see his shame lingering, so I lean in more until I have to put my hand on his chest or fall into his lap. ‘Chakotay.’ I say it softly and wait for his eyes to return to mine. ‘No matter what you’ve done in the past, these last few weeks you’ve been a lifeline to me. If you and the other Maquis hadn’t been there, I’d still be in that prison camp, or worse. You saved a lot of lives that day. No matter what you did before, it can’t negate that.’ I watch him carefully and am relieved to see that my words manage to chase away some of his self-doubt. Then I realise this awareness between us is more than just an understanding of each other, being able to read each other’s emotions. There’s a current between us, an energy. A connection. I think it might have been between us all along, from the moment I decided to trust him in that Cardassian camp. I thought I was responding to the touch of humour I heard in his voice, but it’s far more than that. Now that I’m conscious of it, I feel it flare up. It’s a tingling warmth that’s spreading from my hand on his chest to every part of me. I feel the heat on my cheeks and I know they’re flushed red, but not in embarrassment. There’s no doubt here, or second guessing, just us. And the awareness sizzling between us. For once in my life I’m not thinking, just feeling. I feel… alive. I feel… recognised, for everything that I am. And I feel struck, by him, by everything that he is. Every caring, generous, selfless part of him. And every wounded part too. He’s beautiful, in every way.

I don’t know who moved, maybe we both did, but we’re kissing. A soft touch of our lips that feels so right that without a conscious thought it turns into a desperate, all-consuming kiss. I stop being aware of time, or anything but him and the way we feel together.

I have to take a breath. Not so much a literal breath, though that too, but a small break from the intensity running between us. At the same time, I can’t bear to break the connection between us. So our lips part, but I’m still sitting in his lap – without a clear idea of how I got there – and my forehead rests against his. We probably have to talk about this-

A loud _beep _interrupts. Chakotay drops me gently in my own chair and is gone.

It takes me a few more seconds to come back. By the time I do he’s silenced the sound, mumbled something that might be ‘he’s here,’ and left the shuttle. I blink after him, wondering if I should follow him or not. Then I check myself. Yes, I trust Chakotay, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit this one out. I’m a participant, not an onlooker. I ran a hand down my dress and through my hair to smooth it and then I follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I promise to have the next chapter out soon.


	16. Chapter 16

The trees are as close to the shuttle as I thought during the landing. The door just barely opens. I can’t see Chakotay outside, but I hear something up ahead and follow. The sound brings me to another clearing, no larger than the first one, and another shuttle, though this one is clearly far younger than ours and of obvious Starfleet origin. Chakotay is at the side of the shuttle, talking to an man, presumably the pilot of the vessel. He’s human, but older than we are. He’s not wearing a Starfleet uniform, but something in his bearing makes me suspect he’s an officer or former officer too.

Chakotay turns to me at my approach. ‘Ah, Katie, this is Cal. He’ll take you and your father to Deep Space Nine.’

I reach out to shake Cal’s hand before I realise what that means. ‘You’re not coming with us?’ I ask. The thought of parting with him now, of putting my trust in someone else – even someone Chakotay trusts – I don’t even want to think it. I know I’m not controlling my expression as I should, that the dismay is clearly written on my face, because I see it reflected on his. And it hurts him, to disappoint me.

It’s not Chakotay but Cal who answers. ‘He can’t, it’s too dangerous for him to leave the Zone,’ he says as he steps closer to get back into my line of sight. ‘But I promise to take good care of you and your father and get you there safely.’ He seems friendly and trustworthy, but I still hate that Chakotay isn’t coming with us. I don’t want to say goodbye. But what more can I ask of him? He would come, if I asked him. It’s written all over his face. He doesn’t want to part any more than I do. But I can’t ask him to court danger any more than he already has just because I’m too selfish to let him go.

My connection to Chakotay and my goal to get home, which have been working together so wonderfully these past few days, are now abruptly at odds. To achieve one I have to give up the other. He can’t come with me and I can’t stay here. I’m tempted, if just for a moment, to stay with Chakotay and help him fight for something he believes in. But staying here would mean abandoning the Captain and leaving behind everything, my family, friends and career, and fight for a cause_ I_ don’t believe in. The realisation surprises me. Yes, I think the Cardassians are doing terrible things – how can I not after what I experienced? And no, Starfleet and the Federation don’t even seem to be acknowledging this, let alone handling it adequately. So I understand the Maquis and sympathise with what they’re trying to achieve, but _I can’t_. I’m not quite sure why. It’s not the recklessness of their actions, I know quite well that I can be reckless too, when pushed. I’ve had enough complaints about it over the years. I’m not afraid to take risks for something I believe in. I suppose that’s the crux of the matter. I don’t believe Starfleet’s course is entirely correct, but I don’t think the Maquis are right either. They’re too small to solve the problem themselves and their tactics are too violent to attract the sort of support they need.

I look up at Chakotay to tell him this, to help him in some way, but I realise he already knows it. He’s beginning to doubt his course too. That’s why he doesn’t want Starfleet to know he’s with the Maquis. He’s beginning to doubt them. But he can’t go back. He’s already burned those bridges. He can only go forward.

I’m vaguely aware that Cal is no longer standing with us, but I don’t care. I’m only aware of Chakotay. I grasp his hand between both of mine and draw him closer. As close as I can while still looking him in the eye. I need him to see me, as well as hear me, so he can’t doubt that I mean this. ‘I believe in you, Chakotay. I have absolute faith in your humanity. No matter what you’ve done in the past, do what you believe to be right, now.’

I’m not sure which of us is shaking. Probably me. I’m shaking with conviction, wishing him to believe me, but I’m also trembling. I want to touch him, kiss him, but if I do how will I let go? So I fight the impulse, but it takes everything I have. Chakotay frees one of his hands from mine and I’m almost glad he can let go when I can’t, but instead his hand gently cups my cheek. For a moment I think he’ll thank me for my words, which would be crazy after everything he did for me.

But he doesn’t seem to have words and I don’t need them. I’m caught in his warm, dark eyes. I can see in them that he’s just as affected as I am. That he finds it just as hard to part as I do. Words spill out of me, even though I have no idea what I’ll say until I do. ‘Three weeks ago I didn’t even know your name; today I can’t imagine a day without you,’ I whisper. Chakotay swallows nervously. I see him struggle too, feel the nervous energy running through him. But I see him fighting to push it down. ‘I’m sure Cal has already beamed over the Captain and is waiting for you,’ he says and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed that he’s trying to push me away or grateful that he’s doing it for my sake. ‘Take care of yourself, Kathryn.’ He kisses my forehead, lingering for a long moment. I try to find the words to say goodbye, to thank him, tell him what everything he’s done means to me, but I can’t find a single one. He lets me go and leaves. It’s a struggle to stay still, to follow him only with my eyes. I silently beg him to look back, just once, but it’s almost a relief when he doesn’t. Only when he’s vanished from sight do I move.

I enter the shuttle. Due to its familiar design I find the bridge almost without thought. There are two seats in the front. Cal occupies one, but I don’t take the co-pilot’s seat this time. I just sink down in one of the chairs further back. One of the screens is programmed for medical readouts. I see the Captain, presumably in a bunk in the back, closely monitored by ship’s systems. Cal doesn’t look at me, or speak, nor do I, but he knows I’m here, because he starts up the engines and I hear the hatch close. I’m glad to be left to my own thoughts. We have a long road ahead of us. I can take an hour to feel and process. We’ll get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, it means so much to hear from you. We're almost there. The last part will be up this weekend, probably sunday morning, European time. I hope you liked this chapter!


	17. Chapter 17

Benjamin Sisko’s personal log.

We had some unexpected visitors today. It all started with a message from an old friend in the middle of the night…


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the epilogue! Usually I write my stories in (chronological) order, but I'm very glad I let that go for this one, because the epilogue is actually one of the first parts I wrote. It's been inspiring me ever since and I'm so glad that I finally get to share it with you. I hope you love it as much as I do.

**A few months later**

**Chakotay**

It’s completely dark. I wait for my eyes to adjust, hoping no one noticed my transport into the Janeway house. No alarms blare, but that doesn’t mean the local authorities weren’t alerted the moment we made contact. I have no way of knowing, so I carry on. I know my plan is dangerous and there’s a high risk that it’ll end with me in Federation custody, but when I heard the news I had to come. I couldn’t stay away.

Slowly my eyes adjust to the darkness and I see a flight of stairs, right in front of me. Pictures are hanging on the walls, though I can only see the outline of the frames. Behind me is a solid wooden door, presumably the front door. I let out an almost silent breath of air. It appears that I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I guess Torres really does know what she’s doing.

I start to make my way upstairs. In the night-time stillness, I’m aware of every sound. My footsteps on the ancient wood, every creaking stair. Every few moments I hear the wind howling somewhere upstairs, whistling through some tiny crack in the attic or some uneven seam next to a window pane. The hair on the back of my head rises as I realise it’s been years since I’ve heard the sounds of a house like this. Old-fashioned. Handmade. Starfleet buildings don’t have sounds like these, they hardly have sounds at all. The houses on Sunkila and the other Maquis-friendly colonies are constructed in a different style. Not to mention in a different climate. And Maquis buildings aren’t houses at all, they’re sheds, shelters. Nothing more. Nothing like this… homestead. Nothing like my childhood home, before the Cardassians.

I try to shake off the sudden feeling of homesickness as I cross the first landing and move to the next flight of stairs. Our least-invasive scan – and least likely to attract attention from authorities - could read three lifeforms, all human, female and presumably asleep. I didn’t need to know more. Instinctively I knew that Katie – Kathryn – is the one in the attic; closest to the stars.

I’m almost there and so far no sign that anyone is aware of my presence. I reach the last few stairs and slow to a crawl. This is where it gets tricky. I don’t know much about the layout of the house and have no idea if there’s a door between the stairs and the attic, and if so where it is. When I reach the top of the stairs, I move even slower, my hands outstretched in front of me. After a few steps I hit a wall. I fumble around for a few moments before finding the door handle to my right. I turn it and push the door open, shuffling carefully inside. I push the door closed behind me, still trying to be careful, but I hear it click. Just a small sound as the latch falls into place, but almost immediately I hear movement and a voice orders ‘Lights!’

The lights blaze on full-force and I stand there blinking like a deer in headlights. By the time the first glare clears, Kathryn is standing right in front of me, phaser aimed at my chest. Though she’s squinting against the bright light too, her aim is perfect. Her eyes hold that same steely determination I remember and my heart lifts. I’ve been so worried about her the past few days; ever since I heard about the accident that killed her father. That worry brought me here, lightyears away into the heart of sector 001. I just couldn’t shake the feeling that this loss would devastate her – break her. Like the death of my family broke me. Seeing her so fierce is a great relief. But it´s also a bit… unsettling. Can I be envious?

The thought has barely entered my mind when I see her falter. ‘Chakotay?’ she whispers, so softly I see more than hear her say it. The arm holding the phaser drops to her side, unnoticed. I smile at her, but I also begin to notice the bags beneath her eyes. The fizziness of her hair. As if she just got out of bed, yes, but worse. How much her hand shakes as she brings it up to cover her mouth. Perhaps I wasn’t wrong at all.

‘Kathryn?’ I say, taking a step forward to gently brush her arm. I don’t know if it’s my voice, or my touch, or just the realisation that I’m real, but I can see the strength leave her. As if I flicked a switch, or no, as if I pulled a plug. It drains out of her eyes. Her whole body sags as her energy flows away. From one moment to the next, she collapses. Her arms come up to cover her lower face and her knees buckle beneath her. I catch her just before she crumbles to the floor. I shuffle awkwardly, almost dragging her with me, until I can deposit her on the bed behind her. She sits, staring at me wildly, but that’s it. I sink down onto the bed next to her and I don’t know what to say. She scares me. There’s no life in her eyes, just barrenness. I don’t recognize it. I don’t see her indomitable spirit in those eyes.

When the Cardassians destroyed my home world I felt grief, but mostly I felt rage. It fuelled me and consumed me. I don’t recognize this emptiness. I don’t know how to deal with it.

In the end, it’s Kathryn who shows me how to reach her. Without turning her eyes from mine and with her hand shaking terribly, she grips my hands, first with one hand, then, when I make no move against it, both. Her grip is punishing, but I don’t move away. I know she’s reaching out to me for help. Instead, I turn my hands around so I can grip her back just as fiercely. She still doesn’t speak, just looks at me, almost without blinking. I guess it’s up to me to talk. So I do.

I tell her how good it is to see her. That I’ve thought about her, wondering how she was doing, how her return to Earth was after we said goodbye. Was it easy to adjust? Was her debriefing difficult? Did the Captain recover? After the first few sentences, it becomes easy to talk to her. All the thoughts I’ve had about her the past few months, that I couldn’t share with anyone, come pouring out of me. She just looks at me, without any attempt to respond or interrupt. It’s almost like talking to someone in a coma. But every now and again I see a flicker of emotion in her eyes, and I hope I’m making some kind of dent in her numbness. So I prattle on.

I tell her how I heard about the news of her father’s accident, almost two weeks ago. Weeks after it had happened. How I worried about her and grieved for her. How I couldn’t express my worries to anyone, because nobody knew who she really was, and they can’t. How I tried to find out about her, how she was doing, but that’s not the kind of information you can access countless light-years away on a Maquis ship. So, finally, I couldn’t stop myself from coming here and seeing for myself.

That finally draws a response from her. I see fear in her eyes and her grip on my hands tightens even further. ‘Chakotay,’ she whispers, again. The rasping quality of her voice makes me wonder how long it´s been since she´s used it. If she´s talked to anyone about what happened. She swallows, painfully I think, and I wait to see if she has more to say. My patience is rewarded. ‘You shouldn’t have come,’ she grates out, her voice still huskier than I remember it. ‘Too dangerous.’

I realise that the fear I see in her eyes is for me. The first emotion she’s shown and it’s for my safety. I’m more certain than ever that I was right in coming here. I gently untangle one of my hands from hers and reach for her face, caressing her cheek. Her hand follows, holding mine securely against her face. As if I’d want to let go. ‘I had to come,’ I tell her simply. I know my eyes are telling her far more than that. It should make me feel self-conscious, but I see enough of it mirrored in her eyes to realise I might have the answer to her detachment. I assume her numbness is a defence mechanism against her own emotions. Maybe focussing on someone else’s will help her break through it. This is the moment to lay all my cards on the table. I take a deep breath and decide to tell her everything.

‘When the Cardassians destroyed my home world, and killed my people, I was angry. With the Cardassians, but also with Starfleet for not stopping them. I felt that the organisation and the values that I’d dedicated my life to had failed me. In that way, I lost not just my home and my family, but the future I’d envisioned for myself in Starfleet. I felt like I could no longer continue the life I’d build, nor could I return to the life I’d left behind. So I turned to the Maquis. To get revenge. I didn’t care if it got me killed, because I couldn’t see a life for myself anyway.’ I have to pause for a moment. It’s not easy to return to those days, even in my memory. But Kathryn’s eyes are full of compassion, showing me that I’m doing something right. So I take another deep breath and continue.

‘I’d been on quite a few missions, but when I met you, that was the first time we were fighting not for vengeance, but to help someone. At least it was for me. Many of the Maquis fight to protect the colonies, but mine was already destroyed. I thought there was nothing left to save. And then I met you. I rescued you, like I couldn’t rescue my family. It wasn’t too late for you. **_I _**wasn’t too late for you. You were my redemption, Kathryn. And in that way, you saved me. And you continued to save me. By demanding my help. By showing determination, and optimism, and hope. All the things I thought I’d lost. You made me realise I still had those things too, I’d just locked them away. And when I found out you were Starfleet, I began to realise that the values I’d recognised and admired in you were the values that drew me to Starfleet. I might have turned my back on it, but in my heart I still believed in those values. And I wasn’t alone. You saved me from myself, Kathryn.’

By now, tears are freely rolling down her face. I wipe them away when they reach my hands, both of which are now cradling her head, but they keep pouring down. I suspect this might be the first time she’s cried since the death of her father. These tears are for far more than my confession, they’re everything she’s held in for too long. Her words confirm it.

‘My father was all those things; determined, optimistic. He always saw the best in people and encouraged them to live up to that potential. When I was little, I used to hide beneath his desk, listening to him work and trying to solve whatever task he’d set me. Memorising the multiplication tables, figuring out my next chess move. I wanted to be just like him.’

‘Sounds like you are. You brought out the best in me.’ My words bring on another round of weeping. I’m glad. She needs to let all this out. After a few moments, she mumbles something that I don’t quite catch, so I ask her ‘what?’

‘I should have been there,’ she says again, in between big gulps of air. ‘I should have saved him.’

This I recognize, the guild of not being there, of having let this happen to a loved one. It will paralyse her again, if I let it. So I lift her chin up, so I can look her in the eye.

‘How? What could you have done?’ She tries to shy away, but I won’t let her. I ask her again, ‘what could you have done?’

After a few moments of internal struggle, her chin comes up on its own and she glares at me defiantly. The fire in her eyes is so far removed from her earlier numbness that I almost praise the spirits I’ve never believed in before. ‘I don’t know. But I should have been there with him, I should have tried.’

‘And died with him? He wouldn’t have wanted that. Besides weren’t you still on leave?’ After her ordeal with the Maquis… ‘You couldn’t have known this would happen. It’s not your fault, Kathryn.’

For a moment I think she’ll argue further, but then she deflates, as her stubbornness evaporates. For a moment I’m afraid I overdid it and she’ll revert to an emotionlessness state, but tears form anew in her eyes. She fights them though, unwilling to let them fall, glancing up for strength. It’s such a beautiful demonstration of emotion and fortitude that I can’t contain a smile. She notices and for a moment she looks at me quizzically, but then she seems to understand, because she smiles back at me. A beautiful tear-filled smile that threatens to take my breath away.

‘Thank you,’ she whispers, as her hand moves to caress my face and then falls down to rest on my chest just above my heart. ‘For caring enough to come here.’

Her touch sends fire shooting through me. The desire to kiss her is almost overwhelming and I’m suddenly very aware that we’re sitting on her bed. But I temper my feelings, reminding myself that she’s been through hell and this is no time to jump into bed. I glance down, afraid she’ll read the desire in my eyes. When I glance back up, she’s still smiling at me. I manage to whisper, ‘always.’

Is it me or has her smile turned decidedly lopsided, with a wicked glint? Before I can question it she leans in and for a moment I think she’s about to kiss me, but she ends up kissing my cheek. I’m not sure how to react to that. Is that a thank-you? A gentle let-down? Her smile is still warm and her hand is still resting on my chest, so I decide to take it as a good thing. No, she removes her hand. But only to rest her head there and snuggle into my chest. I hear her whisper ‘thank you, Chakotay,’ again as my arms close around her.

It’s amazingly satisfying, to hold her like this. Somehow lighter. It takes me a few minutes to realise that for the first time since I heard of the destruction of Dorvan, I feel at peace. The realisation releases such a wave of gratitude that I can’t stop myself from kissing her head, just a feather light kiss. I wait, wondering if she’ll pull away, but she only holds me tighter.

As wonderful as this is, I know it can’t last. ‘I can’t stay long. We have to be out of the Earth’s atmosphere before morning.’ Actually, B’Elanna threatened to leave me behind if I didn’t beam back before 4 A.M., so we have less than four hours. I don’t know how much of that has already passed.

She moves out of my arms and I’m sorry to let her go. ‘I understand. What time do you have to leave?’

‘I have to be gone by four.’

Without missing a beat, Kathryn instructs the computer to sound an alarm at 3:45. ‘There, that should do it.’ Then she turns her gaze back to me. But only for a moment, before her eyes drift away. She seems almost shy.

I hope she doesn’t feel awkward about our hug, now that the intimacy of the moment has passed. I don’t want her to feel regret for getting some of the comfort she so desperately needed. Careful to touch her as lightly as possible, I gently place one finger under her chin to raise her eyes to mine again. ‘What is it?’ I ask.

It takes her another moment to answer, but then she asks, as nervous as a teenage girl, ‘Will you hold me until you have to leave? It felt so safe…’

‘Of course,’ I answer her with a smile. However, instead of pulling her towards me like before, I turn her on her side and gently coax her down before laying down behind her, boots and all. Judging by her fast reaction time, I don’t think she was asleep when I came in and it’s been quite an emotionally draining night for both of us. Not to mention how little real sleep she’s probably had in the past weeks. I hope that held like this, she’ll be able to rest. For a few moments she’s tense, but then she relaxes against me. It isn’t long before her breathing evens out into the quiet rhythm of sleep. I lay awake a little longer, thinking about the strange turns this night has taken and wondering if she’ll be all right if I leave this morning. Not that I have much of a choice. I won’t do her any good by lingering and getting arrested. Her quiet breathing and warmth lulls me to sleep before I can worry about it too much.

* * *

When the alarm sounds a few hours later, Kathryn doesn’t so much as stir, confirming my suspicions about her recent sleeping patterns. I decide not to wake her and quietly contact B’Elanna and ask her to transport me back to our vessel. Before I leaves, however, I place a padd on her bedside table with a message for Kathryn. It seems silly after all I’ve said to her tonight, but I suddenly can’t find the right words. In the darkness, alone with my thoughts, everything I type sounds stupid. I’m running out of time, so in the end the message I leave is short. Just a code, the communication frequency for a secure comm. address I asked B´Elanna to set up for me, just in case.

After another moment of hesitation, I end with ´Love, C´.

Next to the padd, I place the wooden lizard figurine I carved while thinking of her. Then I beam away.

* * *

It’s several hours later when Kathryn is abruptly awoken by a flood of cold water, courtesy of her sister Phoebe, who drags her away to breakfast. It takes a few more hours for Kathryn to return and find the padd, finally confirming what she’d hoped all morning. Chakotay was here.

**The End**, but…

**To Be Continued in _the Meaning of Peace_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story will be continued in The Meaning of Peace, which is the original title of this story, until I realised it would be a two-parter. Don't get your hopes up though. I've only got an outline right now, so it's going to be a while before that is ready to be posted.  
I hope you loved this and thank you for all the kind reviews!


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